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BY  JAMES  HVNEKER 

BJEMOTINTS  IN  MODERN  BfUSIC    (189») 
CHOPIN:   THE  BIAN  AND  HIS  MUSIC   (190<» 
MELOMANIACS   (1802) 
OVERTONES   (180*) 

iconoclasts:  a  boc«  of  dramatists  aoon 

VISIONARIES   (1605) 

egoists:  a  book  of  supermen   (1»09) 

PBOMBNADBS  OF  AN  IMPRESSIONIST   (I»l« 

FRANK  LISZT.      ILLUSTRATED  0911) 

THE  PATHOS  OF  DISTANCE   0812) 

NEW  COSMOFOLIS   (tSlH 

IVORT  APES  AND  PEACOCKS  (»ia) 

tTNICORNS   tl81» 

BEDOUINS  «82(» 

ETEEPLEJACK  (1820) 

VARIATIONS  (1821) 

LCTTERS  (1822) 

CHARLES  SCRIBNEKS  SONS 


LETTERS  OF 
JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


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LETTERS  OF 
JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


COLLECTED  AND  EDITED 
BY 

JOSEPHINE    HUNEKER 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1922 


COPTWOHT,    1922,  BT 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Published  October,  1922 


T' 


TO 

EDWARD   PAGE   MITCHELL,   Lrrr.D. 

BY  THE   EDITOR 

JOSEPHINE   HUNEKER 


r>o.iuv>.^ 


FOREWORD 

This  volume  of  my  husband's  letters  was  prepared 
primarily  on  the  suggestion  of  his  friends,  and  particularly 
for  his  friends — yet  letters  from  some  of  those  with  whom 
he  was  most  intimate  will  not  be  found  in  it.  One  reason 
for  this  omission  is  that  the  correspondence  with  some 
of  his  early  friends  and  associates  has  been  destroyed  by 
them,  or,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  mislaid  or  lost.  An- 
other is  that  in  recent  years  he  was  nearly  always  avail- 
able to  his  friends,  which  explains  the  small  number  of 
letters  during  this  time. 

My  husband  was  ahvays  an  indefatigable  correspon- 
dent, and  no  inquiry  or  courtesy  to  him  ever  remained 
unanswered  for  more  than  a  few  days.  Ever  thoughtful 
of  his  friends,  any  occasion  would  be  a  cause  to  send  them 
a  note,  short  or  long,  and  as  he  never  dictated  or  used  a 
typewriter,  many  an  hour  was  passed  in  writing  letters. 
No  copies  were  ever  made  of  these  letters,  so  that  it  would 
be  quite  impossible  even  to  gather  together  more  than  a 
small  fraction  of  them.  This  collection  is  based  on  those 
that  were  available. 

His  most  intimate  friendships  are  fully  described  in  his 
autobiography,  "Steeplejack"  (1920),  thereby  making 
this  volume  of  letters  a  companion  to  that  work  from  the 
autobiographical  point  of  view. 

I  wish  to  express  my  grateful  appreciation  to  T.  R. 

Smith  and  to  Frederick  James  Gregg,  who  have  assisted 

me  most  helpfully  in  the  preparation  of  this  volume.    To 

all  who  have  placed  their  letters  from  my  husband  at  m}^ 

disposal  I  am  grateful.  t  tt 

^  °  Josephine  Huneker. 

April,  1922. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Foreword  by  Josephine  Huneker vii 

Letters:  1886 

To  Alfred  Barili 3 

1887 

To  Alfred  Barlli 5 

1891 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 6 

1901 

To  E.  E.  Zlegler 7 

1902 

To  Richard  Aldrich 9 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel lo 

1903 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 1 1 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler n 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth i6 

1904 

To  Elizabeth  Jordan i7 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse i8 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse i9 

To  Walter  Prichard  Eaton 2i 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 22 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 23 

To  Elizabeth  Jordan 25 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 26 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 28 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 29 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 32 

1903 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 34 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 36 

To  Walter  Prichard  Eaton 37 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 39 

iz 


CONTENTS 


Letters:  p^cb 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 40 

To  William  Marion  Reedy 41 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 42 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 44 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 46 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 47 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 48 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 49 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 50 

1906 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 51 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 52 

To  Dr.  Edward  J.  Nolan 53 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 54 

To  Richard  Aldrich ^^ 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler ^6 

1907 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 58 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 60 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 61 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 62 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 62 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 63 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 64 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 65 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 67 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 68 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 70 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 72 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 74 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 75 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 77 

1908 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 79 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 80 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 81 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 82 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 84 


CONTENTS  xi 


Letters  :  pace 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 85 

To  Arthur  B.  Davies 86 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 87 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 88 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 90 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 91 

1909 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 92 

To  Dr.  Edward  J.  Nolan 92 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 93 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 94 

To  Rojal  Cortissoz 95 

To  Richard  Aldrich 96 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 96 

To  John  Quinn 97 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 99 

1910 

To  W.  C  Brownell 100 

To  John  Quinn loi 

To  Edward  C  Marsh 102 

To  Edward  C  Marsh 103 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 104 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 106 

1911 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 107 

To  Theodore  Presser 108 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 109 

To  Edward  C  Marsh no 

To  John  Quinn in 

To  Frederick  James  Gregg      .      . n  2 

To  W.  C  Brownell n  3 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 11^ 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault n7 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault n9 

To  Dr.  C  U.  Ariens  Kappers 120 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 122 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 123 


xii  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Letters:  1912 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 124 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 125 

To  Theodore  Presser 127 

To  Lawrence  Gilman 128 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 129 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 131 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 133 

To  Theodore  Presser 135 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 136 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 138 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 140 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 141 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell .  142 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 144 


1913 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault .      .      .  147 

To  John  Quinn 147 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 149 

To  Charles  J,  Rosebault 149 

To  John  Quinn 152 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 155 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 156 

To  Mrs.  Emma  Eames 157 

To  Dr.  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 159 

To  Dr.  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 160 

To  Dr.  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 161 

To  Dr.  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 162 

To  John  Quinn 163 

1914 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 165 

To  John  Quinn 165 

To  John  Quinn 167 

To  Rupert  Hughes 168 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 168 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 170 

To  John  Quinn 171 

To  John  Quinn 173 

To  Rupert  Hughes 173 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 174 

To  John  Quinn 177 


CONTENTS  xiii 


Letters:  1915  page 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 179 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 180 

To  Lawrence  Gilman 181 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 182 

To  Lawrence  Gilman 183 

To  John  Quinn 184 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 185 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 186 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 187 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 188 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 190 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 191 

Postcard: 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 192 

Letters: 

To  John  Quinn 192 

To  John  Quinn 193 

Postcard: 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 195 

Letters: 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 195 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 196 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 198 

To  John  Quinn 198 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 199 

To  John  Quinn 201 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 202 

1916 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 204 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 205 

To  John  Quinn 206 

To  John  Quinn 208 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 209 

To  Lawrence  Gilman 214 

To  Rupert  Hughes 215 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 217 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 218 

Postcards: 

To  Henry  L,  Mencken 220 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 220 


xiv  CONTENTS 


Letters  :  page 

To  Felix  F.  Leifels 220 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 221 

To  Richard  Aldrich 222 

To  Felix  E.  Leifels 223 

To  Miss  Cora  Williams 224 

1917 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 227 

To  Pitts  Sanborn 228 

To  Alden  March 229 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 230 

To  John  D.  Williams 231 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 231 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 232 

To  Richard  Aldrich 233 

To  Alden  March 234 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 235 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 236 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 237 

To  Theodore  Presser 238 

1918 

Postcard: 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 239 

Letters: 

To  John  Quinn 239 

To  Frank  J.  Wilstach 240 

To  La  Marquise  de  Lanza 241 

To  La  Marquise  de  Lanza 242 

To  Alden  March 242 

To  Henry  James,  Jr 244 

To  Mrs.  Emma  Fames 245 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 246 

To  Henry  B.  Fuller .  247 

To  Alden  March 248 

To  Alden  March 250 

To  Alden  March 252 

To  Grenville  Vernon 254 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 255 

To  Frank  J.  Wilstach 256 

To  Alden  March 257 


CONTENTS  XV 


Letters:  page 

To  Alden  March 259 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 260 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 262 

To  Alden  March 263 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 263 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 265 

To  Alden  March 266 

1919 

To  Jules  Bois 267 

To  Dr.  Alexander  Lambert 268 

To  Jules  Bois 268 

To  Jules  Bois 271 

To  Jules  Bois 272 

To  Mme.  Emily  Barili 274 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 275 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 276 

To  Benjamin  Roeder 277 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 278 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 279 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 280 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 281 

To  T.  R.  Smith 282 

To  Jules  Bois 283 

Postcard: 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 285 

Letters: 

To  John  Quinn 285 

1920 

To  T.  R.  Smith 287 

To  Mrs.  Josephine  Ditrichstein 288 

To  Pitts  Sanborn 289 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 290 

To  Lawrence  Oilman 290 

To  John  Quinn 291 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 291 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 292 

To  John  Quinn 293 

To  John  Quinn 295 


xvi  CONTENTS 


Letters  :  page 

To  Jules  Bois 296 

To  Benjamin  Roeder 297 

To  Maxwell  E.  Perkins 298 

To  Arthur  H.  Scribner 299 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 299 

To  Maxwell  E.  Perkins 300 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 301 

To  Philip  Hale 302 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 303 

To  Frida  Ashforth 304 

To  La  Marquise  Clara  Lanza 3^5 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 305 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 307 

To  Alice  Wade  Mulhern 308 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres       .      .      ; 310 

To  Henry  James,  Jr 3" 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 311 

To  Edward  C  Marsh 312 

1921 

To  Mrs.  Gilbert 3i3 

To  Jules  Bois 3^3 

Index 3^5 


LETTERS  OF 
JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

1886 

To  Alfred  Barili 

Alfred  Barili,  a  nephew  of  Adelina  Patti,  and  for  many  years  a 
teacher  of  music  in  Atlanta,  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Huneker's 
youth  in  Philadelphia,  and  one  of  his  earliest  correspondents.  When 
the  first  two  letters  were  written  to  him,  Mr.  Huneker  was  just  be- 
ginning his  literary  career  as  a  writer  on  music. 

_,  .  Tuesday  Jan.  12/86 

Dear  Alfred: 

We  have  had  the  most  delightful  season  of  German 
opera  imaginable.  Say  what  you  will  there  is  nobody 
like  "Wagner."  I  don't  mean  "Tannhauser"  or  "Lohen- 
grin" so  much — fine  as  they  are — but  his  later  wonderful 
dramatic  works.  "Die  Walkiire"  I  heard  three  times  and 
now  for  me  to  listen  to  a  namby-pamby  Italian  opera 
with  its  commonplace  plot  and  more  than  commonplace 
music  would  be  quite  impossible.  The  vocahsm  is  not 
all  that  can  be  desired  mais  que  voulez-vous  ?  One  doesn't 
look  for  it.  It  is  simple  dramatic  singing  from  the  chest 
— no  affectation,  all  honesty,  if  it  is  not  so  beautiful  as 
Italian  singing.  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  for  me  in 
Atlanta  or  you  would  have  written  about  it.  How  are 
your  wife  &.  children?  I  should  like  to  see  Madame 
and  have  a  talk  about  old  times.  Dear  Alfred  how  did 
you  like  the  December  Etude? — the  notice  of  your  father 
&  yourself.  If  you  should  subscribe  or  have  anybody, 
please  send  them  to  me  171 1  Race  St.  and  I  will  attend 
to  it.     Please  let  me  know  if  anything  should  turn  up.     I 

3 


4    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

am  looking  for  work  on  the  newspapers.     I  soon  publish 

some  compositions — I  would  be  proud  if  you  dedicated 

the  Polonaise  to  me.     Please  tell  Phillips  &  crew  to  send 

The  £tude  all  of  your  compositions  &  the  gavotte  &  valse 

you  wrote  years  ago.     I  will  review  the  whole  of  them 

in  a  separate  article.     Good  bye  old  man  &  remember 

me  to  your  wife. — Regards.        »  j        •     j     • 

•^  °  Ade-a-rivedersi         t 

Jim 


1887 

To  Alfred  Bar  Hi 

Monday  March  7th,  1887 

New  York  City 
No.  40  7th  Avenue 
My  Dear  Alfred: 

Better  late  than  never,  so  I  was  delighted  to  hear  from 
you  even  if  it  was  over  a  year.  Your  letter  was  full  of 
interesting  information.  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  are 
successful.  You  deserve  it  as  you  have  worked  hard. 
But  take  my  advice  and  don't  work  for  nothing.  I  did 
it  and  it  has  always  been  a  failure.  I  am  now  in  New 
York  and  have  been  for  a  year.  I  am  in  musical  jour- 
nalism. I  write  for  a  half  dozen  papers.  Do  you  like 
my  work  in  The  Etude?  I  do  all  the  work  signed  "Old 
Fogy,"  *J.  H.'  I  will  give  you  a  notice  in  March — news 
of  the  month — look  out  for  it. 

Now  Alfred  whatever  you  send  me  I  will  review  but  I 
particularly  want  that  Polonaise — ?  Have  you  pub- 
lished it?  I  will  give  it  a  good  notice.  How  are  your 
family  in  Phila.  I  never  hear  any  more.  I  am  studying 
with  Neupert — I  play  the  Chopin  Etudes  and  the  Chopin 
E  Minor  Concert.  Just  think  of  Huneker  ever  getting 
tone  &  technlc.  But  I  have  and  can  prove  it  although 
I  am  only  a  salon  pianlste — but  even  at  that  I  often 
think  of  the  old  times.  When  you  come  north  call  in 
N.  Y.  at  my  address.  I  am  crazy  to  tell  you  about  the 
season.  I  am  Wagner  mad.  I  know  all  the  leit  motiven. 
Love  to  all  &  write         y^^^  ^^-^^^      ^^^ 


1891 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashforth 

Madame  Frida  Ashforth,  now  eighty-two  years  old,  a  distinguished 
singing  teacher,  who  in  her  youth  was  on  the  opera  stage  with  Clara 
Louise  Kellogg,  Brignoli  and  all  the  great  stars  of  that  period,  was 
among  Mr.  Huneker's  oldest  friends  and  correspondents.  The  gift 
was  that  of  a  handsome  inkstand. 

T^  ,  -  .  New  York,  Dec.  21st,  1891 

Dear  Madame  Ashforth. 

Your  kind,  thoughtful  gift  is  more  than  appreciated 

by  me  and  all  the  more  welcome  because  I  did  not  know 

you  even  thought  of  me  at  all.     But  the  unexpected 

sometimes  happens,  and  I  find  that  I  have  a  friend  more 

in  the  world,  a  world  that  does  not  contain  too  many 

friends.     I  shan't  forget  your  kindness  chere  madame, 

and  shall  use  your  gift,  constantly — Sincerely 

James  Huneker 


1901 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

Mr.  Edward  E.  Ziegler,  the  music  critic,  was  associated  with  Mr. 
Huneker  in  his  work  and  was  one  of  his  warmest  friends. 

Munich  Sept.  19.  1901 

Still  in  Munich — Can  I  ever  escape? 

Dear  Ned — I  made  up  my  mind  when  I  went  away  not 
to  wTite  to  anyone — except  on  business.  Driggs  thus  far 
has  received  letters,  not  postals.  I'm  so  sick  of  pen  and 
ink  that  only  shame  prompts  me — not  to  mention  affec- 
tion!— to  answer  your  two  interesting  and  welcome 
letters.  How  well  you  write — when  you  don't  try. 
There  are  others,  too !  I've  about  done  up  this  place — 
stuff  for  Courier  being  sent  in  until  Oct.  16.  All  Miin- 
chen.  Sunday  and  Monday  we  spent  in  Salzburg.  Mo- 
zart to  burn,  and,  lucky  dog,  I  heard  "Cosi  Fan  Tutte" 
at  the  Residenz  theatre — Tuesday  night  17  Sep !  Lovely 
music,  heavenly  little  theatre.  Fremstad  is  the  best 
thing  down  here.  She  sings  Mozart  as  well  as  Wagner — 
"Dorabella,"  "Brangane,"  "Ortrud,"  "Waltraute"  and 
"Carmen"!  A  versatile  girl.  Went  by  special  invitation 
to  Franz  Stuck's  villa  last  Saturday.  Saw  a  dream  palace, 
though  the  Missus  found  it  bare.  It  is  classic  within  and 
without.  We  go  to  Geneva  to-morrow  for  a  rest.  I'm 
done  up;  2  weeks  in  Bayreuth,  nearly  4  here.  In  the 
theatre — Prinz  Regenten  every  day — have  heard  every 
opera  3  times  over.  Is  that  a  rest  for  a  man  who  went 
abroad  to  escape  music?    Bayreuth  is  rank.    How  did 

7 


8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

you  enjoy  my  "Parsifal"?  It  was  hot  from  the  griddle. 
The  best  thing  in  the  show  was  Olive's  "Ortrud."  Met 
Ternina  last  week.  She  was  very  nice  to  both  of  us. 
Geneva  and  the  lakes — we  stop  over  at  Lake  Constance, 
— Bodensee — Zurich  &c. — Lausaunne  &c.  for  5  days. 
Then  Paris  for  3  weeks,  London  i — and  home  with  its 
heavy  musical  harness.  Ned  look  out  for  your  health ! ! ! 
It  is  the  chief  thing.  Vitahty  is  better  than  style.  We 
only  regret  that  we  did  not  drag  you  with  us — Not  to 
ask  strange  bauern  "Mister  what  is  the  name  of  that 
berg  yonder?"  but  just  to  have  you  along.  Three  is 
company  two  is  not!!  To-night  we  hear  Novelh  the 
great  Italian  actor — and  the  pictures.  I've  spent  all  my 
money.  ^^  ^^^^  ^.^j^  j^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

JIM 


1902 

To  Richard  Aldrich 

The  book  referred  to  in  this  letter  is  "Melomaniacs." 
Mr.  Richard  Aldrich,  now  the  music  critic  for  The  New  York 
Times,  was  at  this  time  on  the  staff  of  The  New  York  Tribune,  and 
therefore  associated  with  Mr.  Cortissoz,  the  Literary  and  Art  Editor 
of  The  Tribune. 

March  9-1902 
My  dear  Richard: 

I  owe  you  a  letter  of  thanks  for  the  interest  you  dis- 
played in  my  mellow  lunacies.  Also,  I  wish  to  make  you 
the  bearer  of  a  message  to  Mr.  Cortissoz  for  his  admira- 
ble review.  Did  I  but  know  him  I  should  certainly  play 
the  part  of  the  grateful  author.  But  I  know  he  is  a  busy 
man  and  that  my  gratitude  can  be  better  conveyed. 
And  I  am  grateful,  Dick!  When  a  fellow  like  R.  C. 
[Royal  Cortissoz]  puts  his  finger  on  the  exact  note  of 
your  keyboard  you  are  bound  to  feel  flattered:  that's 
what  he  did.  Whether  he  had  "roasted"  or  praised  me 
mattered  little  beyond  one's  conventional  vanity  being 
mortified  &c.  But  to  hit  off  those  lunatic  stories  in  a 
phrase  is  what  pleases  my  midriff.  If  I  had  taken  them 
"seriously"  I  should  not  have  pubhshed  them.  They 
smell  to  heaven !    Thank  you  my  lad. 

As  ever        t 
Jim 


10    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

Many  of  the  letters  in  this  collection  are  written  to  Henry  E. 
Krehbiel,  the  music  critic  and  author,  with  w^hom  Mr.  Huneker  had 
a  friendship  of  long  standing  and  was  closely  associated  in  his  work. 
Since  1880  Mr.  Krehbiel  has  been  the  critic  of  The  New  York  Tribune. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Harry:  Ap"I  10-02 

Now  in  the  name  of  God  why  isn't  an  invitation  sent 
to  a  man's  address — to  where  he  lives?  I  never  go  to 
The  Sun  except  Friday  afternoon — ask  Billy  H.  [Hender- 
son]. He  is  usually  there  at  the  same  time.  Of  course 
I'm  mad.  Who  wouldn't  be?  I  go  to  Philadelphia  this 
afternoon  at  5 — I  hope  I  go  again  next  week — business 
that  can't  be  neglected,  also  to  say  good  bye  &c.  We 
sail  soon  and  will  be  gone  a  half  year.  So  you  see  my 
predicament.  I  could  have  arranged  all  differently  if  I 
had  known  in  time.  My  address  is  in  the  directory. — 
Does  whoever  has  charge  of  the  invitations  think  I  go 
every  day  to  my  office  like  a  dry-goods  clerk!  It's  too 
bad.  I  wouldn't — dog  in  the  manger — go  if  I  could ! 
Anyhow — without  wishing  to  poison  your  evening — you 
fellows  ought  to  wait  until  Hilary  Bell  is  underground. 
His  death,  Harry,  was  a  shock — he  looked  so  well,  so 
prosperous,  and  only  a  few  weeks  back  he  wrote  of  W.  W. 
[William  Winter]  in  The  Tribune,  of  his  life's  work  soon 
to  end  &c.  W.  W.  wonderful  old  man,  will  probably  go 
to  Hilary's  funeral.  It's  a  sad  world — I  am  going  over 
to  see  you  for  an  entire  evening,  if  you  don't  mind. 
Drink  to  my  safe  deliverance  from  the  toils  of  temper- 
ance !  A 

As  ever  , 

Jim 


1903 

To  Madame  Frida  Ashjorth 

July  i6,  1903 
Dear  Madame  Ashforth: 

We  are  at  Alt  Aussee,  Styria,  Austria — about  an  hour 
from  Ischl.  The  place  is  celestial  only  it  has  rained  for 
8  days !  Your  letter  followed  us  from  Paris  to  London, 
to  Berlin,  to  Weimar,  to  Leipsic,  to  Dresden,  to  Vienna, 
to  Budapest — and  now  here.  We  are  played-out — 2 
months  of  theatres  and  opera !  The  pace  is  killing.  We 
go  soon  to  Salzburg,  Mondsee,  then  to  Munich  for  the 
Wagnerfest.  Mehr  dummheit!  Where  are  you?  In 
the  Salzkammergut  somewhere  I'm  sure.  If  this  reaches 
you  in  time  to  send  a  post  card  here — Hotel  Am  See — 
Alt  Aussee,  Steirmark,  we  may  have  time  to  hunt  you 
up.     I  hope  so.     Hope  you  are  well 

Love  from  the 

HUNEKERS 

Budapest  for  me — it's  a  dream ! 
Excuse 
paper 
It's  stolen ! ! 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

Alt  Ausee,  Styria,  Austria 
July  2ist,  1903. 
Dear  Ned 

Your  letter  of  July  5th  was  welcome  for  as  I  have  read 
but  one  newspaper  since  we  left  N.  Y.  you  gave  me  lots 
of  news;  and  then,  too,  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  you  are 
alive,  well,  busy,  thriving  even  if  working  hard.     We 

II 


12    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

have  been  here  since  July  4th.  For  10  days  it  rained — 
2  days  were  devoted  to  heavy  snow-squalls,  not  on  the 
mountains  but  in  the  valleys,  also  Uberberg  und  Theil ! ! 
I  often  wished  you  were  here  to  yodel  on  the  Seewiese  as 
the  Tyroleans  footed  it  heavily  on  the  tanzboden  to  the 
music  of  a  crazy  band.  The  Missus  is  in  full  Tyrolean 
costume — peaked  hat,  handkerchief  on  shoulders,  short, 
green  skirt  etc.  Even  the  dogs  in  the  dorj  stop  barking 
when  she  passes  I  But  she  is  no  worse  than  the  other 
women  up  here  who  all  go  in  Styrian  costume.  Six  hot 
days  followed  the  rain — the  lake  is  a  paradise  and  also 
an  ice-freezer.  We  have  been  in — and  out !  Our  Vienna 
&  Budapesth  adventures  must  keep  until  we  sit  at  the 
same  board  next  October.  We  are  one  hour  from  IschI 
where  all  the  celebrities  go — dukes  and  music  critics  (old 
HansHck  is  there)  conductors  and  Leschetitzkys  etc. — not 
to  mention  Kaiser  Josef.  A  Grand  Duke  is  our  neighbor 
here  and  the  Prinz  Hohenlohe  with  his  family  infest  our 
vicinage.  They  all  look  like  Second  Avenue — I  can  think 
of  no  other  classification.  The  Missus  refused  to  be  in- 
troduced to  the  baron  the  other  night,  not  because  his 
knees  were  naked  and  dirty — in  true  Tyrolean  style — 
but  because  he  wasn't  a  Prinz — I  suppose.  Yes,  we 
went  to  Terrace  Garden  at  10.30  April  29th  for  the  rea- 
son that  Hoboken  rejected  us — every  hotel  and  bagnio 
and  bordel  was  jammed  with  outgoing  emigrants  (or  im- 
migrants). As  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  bed  (the  steamer 
sailed  at  9  a.  m.)  we  sat  with  O'Leary  and  listened.  The 
feelings  of  the  Missus  may  be  imagined — also  mine.  It 
was  the  first  Pilsner!  We  left  home  with  our  hand- 
baggage  at  7  A.  M.  and  took  a  bleary  breakfast  at  the 
Hoboken  ferry.  I  saw  eleven  steamers  sailing  when  we 
left — but  das  hat  micb  nicht  genirt !    Since  then  Fve  had 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  13 

cause  to  regret  Pilsner.  In  Weimar  a  horrid  goblin  over- 
took me — Gich  !  The  gout  I  I  had  to  switch  to  Ur-quell 
wasser,  etc.  until  Vienna — then  an  interlude  of  Pilsner 
and  now  I'm  off  for  good.  No  more  for  Willy.  Too 
many  shooting  pains  in  the  toe.  We  go  from  here  to 
Salzburg — Munich  next  month.  Thence  to  the  Hague, 
Amsterdam,  Rotterdam,  Leyden,  Haarlem — finally  Sche- 
veningen  for  a  week's  bathing.  Thence,  Utrecht  via 
Koln,  up  the  Rhine  to  Frankfurt,  across  to  Berhn,  Ham- 
burg. Home  on  Oct.  ist.  Met  Nikisch  in  Vienna.  He 
made  me  promise  to  go  to  Scheveningen.  I  had  faint 
hopes  of  Venice  but  the  weather  is  too  hot — when  it 
doesn't  rain.  Gericke  was  here  to  dinner  last  Sunday 
with  his  family.  He  stops  at  Ischl.  So  does  Svencenz- 
ski  of  Kneisel  quartet.  I  expect  to  see  them  Friday 
next.  I  haven't  seen  but  one  Sun — Sunday  June  21st. 
It  contained  a  much  mutilated  and  badly  edited  story 
of  Ibsen's  "The  Vikings."  Fancy  writing  that  "the  one 
unpardonable  sin  is  the  repudiation  of  love"  and  finding 
Wepetition^  in  the  types!  Quite  a  different  meaning  I 
But  I  fancy  that  it — or  the  careless  lifting  of  paragraphs 
at  the  last  without  altering  a  plural — will  not  again  hap- 
pen. My  Ibsen  story  was  no  great  shakes,  but  a  column 
was  "Hfted"  out  of  it  so  it  reads  astray.  Rosebault 
writes  me  that  my  "Joyzelle"  is  a  good  story  and  Vance 
Thompson  wrote  me  from  Paris  yesterday  that  the  Sar- 
dou  "Dante"  was  all  right.  But  Ned  I  really  do  not 
care.  I'm  fagged  with  theatre  and  music  and  travel,  so 
don't  Judge  my  stuff  one  way  or  the  other.  It  is  written 
for  newspaper  consumption — and  for  cash,  so  much  per 
word  (if  the  late  C.  Dana  could  return  he  would  whistle 
at  my  pay  per  word).  I  took  pains  with  my  "Nachtasyl" 
story — it  is  a  terrific  play;  but  the  Strauss  I  just  wrote 


14    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

for  what  it  was  worth — gossip,  etc.  Serious  criticism 
will  come  later  in  the  magazines.  For  that  reason  the 
Shaw  story  read  swifter  than  the  Maeterlinck,  i.  e.  the 
latter  is  for  a  book  of  dramatic  essays  (keep  this  quite 
shady  won't  you?  Maeterlinck  has  willingly,  appar- 
ently gratefully,  accepted  the  dedication).  They — these 
brainy  gents  in  Europe — are  not  yet  over  the  surprise 
caused  by  American  methods  of  journalism,  rapid-fire 
interview  and  general  hustling.  I  simply  adore  Pesth 
and  Vienna.  No  more  Germany  for  me — take  the  Con- 
stantinople express  at  Ostende,  travel  to  Belgrade,  Orsove 
or  Bucharest,  then  sail  up  the  river  (Danube)  through 
magnificently  wild  scenery  to  Pesth  and  stay  there; — 
thence  to  Wien;  that's  my  present  notion  of  a  European 
holiday.  We  found  Franz  Stuck's  "Sphynx"  in  the  Buda- 
pest Museum.  What  a  jewel  of  a  city — a  glittering  gem ! 
No,  I  am  not  making  money  Ned;  just  paying  ex- 
penses. But  the  trip  had  to  be  taken  for  50  reasons.  I 
shall  have  been,  and  seen,  on  my  return,  the  interiors  and 
stage  machinery  of  theatres  boasting  of  English,  Dutch, 
Belgian,  French,  German,  Austrian,  Hungarian  (the 
Budapest  opera  only  seats  1 1 00  but  the  hydraulic  stage 
machinery  is  immense)  Italian  and  Swiss  nationalities! 
That  means  knowledge  of  theatres  etc.  not  to  mention 
the  plays.  I  hate  the  English,  loathe  the  German  Philis- 
tines. Runcie  is  better  now — read  Weekly  Critical  Re- 
view with  an  amusing  story  of  his  July  2nd  (I  think). 
It  also  contains  **Le  Pater  en  Si"  a  translation  of  "The 
Lord's  Prayer"  made  by  Arthur  Bless.  Really  you  are 
missing  some  excellent  critical  articles  in  The  Review  by 
Symons,  Ellis  (Havelock)  and  Ernest  Newman.  I  have 
spoken  of  New  York  music — of  course.  Perhaps  I  may 
return  with  some  surprising  news  concerning  The  Review. 


TO   EDWARD   E.  ZIEGLER  15 

It's  a  likely  sheet  and  is  succeeding  everywhere.  The 
father  of  Bless  is  very  rich — but  cautious.  I  either  go 
to  await  Dore  in  France  to  see  him,  or  run  over  to  Man- 
chester. He  wishes  to  fix  matters  with  me  permanently. 
Ned,  I  have  more  readers  in  Paris  and  London  than  I 
dreamed  of.  Remy  de  Gourmont,  a  marvellously  erudite 
man  quotes  me  in  his  reviews — which  is  charming.  I 
looked  after  the  Kaiser  in  my  Berlin  story — a  thing  of 
shreds,  patches,  gossip  etc.  A  summer  audience  does  not 
desire  aught  but  frivohty.  Don't  cavil,  my  son.  When 
you  are  in  the  saddle — as  you  must  soon  be — you  will 
appreciate  brain  fag  and  the  unutterable  weariness  that 
comes  from  52  weekly  repetitions.  Do  you  know  that  I 
am  getting  for  the  first  time  since  1887  a  holiday  without 
a  pen  stroke  unless  I  care  to — that  is  the  reason  I  am 
writing  such  a  flux  of  words  now.  I  mean  that  every 
summer  I  went  away  I  had  to  send  weekly  copy.  I'm 
through  now  for  the  season — last  week  I  sent  The  Sun 
another  33,000  words  making  in  all  circa  60,000  words 
which  carries  me  up  until  September  ist.  I  propose  to 
loaf,  not  to  write  unless  3  vol.  novels  to  you,  and  other- 
wise enjoy  life  {ohiie  bier  oder  wein!).  I'm  glad  to  hear 
of  the  Strauss  "Bookman."  You'll  pull  out  all  right  in 
great  shape.  Stevenson  (E.  I.  Prime)  is  at  Innsbruck 
and  is  writing  me  every  24  hours  to  go  over  there.  Aber 
— nit*.  I  called  on  Paur,  Rosenthal — Moritz — and  Bo- 
sendorfer  the  piano  man — in  Wien,  but  they  were  not  in 
the  city.  I  expect  to  see  Paur  at  Munich.  Ternina 
also.  Her  Isolde  was  glorious  in  musty  London — but 
hang  the  English.  They  make  me  sick  when  they  talk 
art !  I  lit  into  them  good  and  hard  some  weeks  ago. 
Regards  from  Mrs.  Huneker  and 

As  Ever  Yours,  , 


i6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

Hotel  Am  See 

Alt  Aussee,  Austria 
T  T-  A  ^"g-  ^st,  1903 

LiEBE  Frida  Ashforth 

I  didn't  answer  your  letter  at  once  for  my  plans  were 
unsettled  by  a  letter  from  my  brother  who  goes  to  Karls- 
bad next  week.  So,  Gott  sei  dank  I  may  not  go  to 
Munich  after  all,  but  to  Marienbad  to  take  off  25  lbs.  of 
my  fat;  thence  to  Holland.  I  hope  to  be  in  Frankfort 
about  Sep.  1 2th  and  if  you  are  in  Hombourg  we  will  go 
over  to  say  "how  dye  do"  for  an  hour !  I'm  sick  of  the 
Ring  and  the  squalling  German  singers — Though  I've 
principally  attended  theatrical  performances  in  Europe  I 
went  to  the  London  "Ring"  cycles  and  heard  more  bad 
singing  than  ever.  In  the  Sunday  Sun  of  July  12th  I've 
written  the  truth  about  Wagner  music  and  its  effects  on 
the  voice.  It  will  not  give  pleasure  to  the  advocates  of 
howling  I  know. 

I'm  glad  you  saw  Marchesi.  When  you  saw  her  sev- 
eral years  ago  you  were  not  so  pleased  with  her.  After 
all  she  has  been  a  remarkably  energetic  personality. 

I  hope  dear  friend  you  will  benefit  by  the  rest — after 
all  Europe  is  a  sedative  compared  to  noisy  New  York. 
We  are  bored  up  here  because  out  of  31  days,  20  have 
been  rainy.  That's  enough !  Marienbad  won't  be  much 
better,  but  at  least  the  Kur  will  keep  us  busy.  My  ad- 
dress after  Thursday  next  will  be  J.  Heller  &  Sohn,  Bank- 
ers, Marienbad,  Oesterreich.  Mrs.  Huneker  sends  re- 
gards, but  I  send  you  a  Kiss.    Here  it  is,  X 

As  Ever        j 
Jim 


1904 

To  Elizabeth  Jordan 

At  the  time  of  this  letter  Miss  Elizabeth  Jordan  was  editor  of 
Harper's  Bazaar.  She  had  asked  Mr.  Huneker  for  an  article  on 
"Richard  Strauss  and  the  Eternal  Woman,"  one  of  a  series  he  was 
writing  for  that  magazine  during  that  period  at  Miss  Jordan's  request. 

The  reference  to  eating  apples  was  prompted  by  Mr.  Huneker's 
amusement  over  the  fact  that  Miss  Jordan's  usual  luncheon  consisted 
of  an  apple;  and  that  to  going  to  church  by  the  fact  that  Miss  Jordan 
was  a  Catholic  and  Mr.  Huneker  had  always  held  that  this  and  his 
relationship  to  Cardinal  Gibbons  created  a  strong  bond  between  them. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Lady:  _  Feb.  .7,  .904 

What  a  hellish  memory  is  yours!  I  forgot  all  about 
Richard  S.  and  the  E.  W. !  and  why  "  Womanly  "  ?  Why 
can't  it  be,  simply  a  Strauss  story  or  study  or  some- 
thing? How  many  words?  Did  you  see  that  "Stuffed 
Christ,"  "Parsifal,"  and  was  there  any  bother  about  the 
seats?  One  more  question — was  the  Maeterlinck  story 
I  sent  you  ever  published — I  got  a  cheque  for  it,  I  know 
— and  if  it  was,  won't  you  have  it  mailed  to  me  here? 
Excuse  all  these  ?  ?  ?  ?  ?  I  hope  to  send  to  you  a 
book:  "Overtones:  A  Book  of  Temperaments,"  next 
month.  It  contains  a  12,000  word  study  of  "Parsifal" 
— not  the  abridged,  skittish  abuse  that  appeared  in  The 
Metropolitan.  I  hope  you  will  read  it — the  book,  if 
you  have  time.  I  also  hope  you  are  well,  eating  apples 
and  going  to  church  regularly ! 

Sincerely, 

James  Huneker 
17 


1 8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 

Mr.  Edwin  W.  Morse  was  at  this  time  in  the  editorial  department 
of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  which  had  just  pubhshed  Mr.  Huneker's 
"Overtones." 

To  be  read  after  meals ! 

The  CarroIIton 
T>,        -^,,       T>,  March  17,  1904 

Dear  Mr.  Morse: 

Eight  weeks  it  will  be  next  Monday  since  I  proposed 
the  little  voIume-/e£  of  Essays.  Quick  work  for  S.  & 
Sons  is  it  not  I  And  for  a  forced  accouchement  the  little 
blue  beast  doesn't  look  badly.  But  scrappy!  Phew! 
Never  again!  Next  Sunday  I  plan  the  lay-out  of  "The 
Tragic  Wall" — gorgeous  title  isn't  it? — and  mean  to  work 
for  one  thing — unity  of  tone.  I  hope  that  not  only  will 
it  be  a  bigger  book  but  also  a  better.  Ibsen  is  on  his 
last  legs,  Maeterlinck  is  popular,  Shaw  is  the  rage,  Strind- 
berg  is  an  unknown  yet  a  formidable  quantity,  Henri 
Becque — I  am  making  a  special  study  of  him — is  really 
the  father  of  the  entire  modern  movement  in  drama  at 
Paris;  while  d'Annunzio,  Duse,  Gorky  (as  dramatist) 
ending  with  a  snappy  study  of  Yvette  Guilbert,  I  call  her 
"A  Singing  Zola"  the  latest  modern  "expression"  of 
life  in  Paris — all  thiswill  I  think  make  fresh  reading. 
Thus: — 

The  Tragic  Wall 
Makers  of  Modern  Drama  ' 

(Ibsen  the  Individualist:  Strindberg:  Maeterlinck:  Ger- 
hart  Hauptmann:  Gorky:  Sudermann:  D'Annunzio  and 
Duse:  Bernard  Shaw:  The  De  Goncourts:  Arthur  Pinero 
Henri  B.  Becque:  Villiers  de  ITsIe  Adam:  The  Neo-Celtic 
Theatre  (Yeats,  Hyde,  Moore  &c) :  A  Singing  Zola.) 


TO  EDWIN  W.  MORSE  19 

By  the  way,  though  not  in  the  least  apropos:  Before  you 
sell  some  "Overtones"  sheets  to  London — that  is  if  you  do 
— will  you  let  me  know  ?  There  are  a  half  dozen  slight  cor- 
rections to  make — not  one  serious;  merely  transpositions 
of  letters  and  some  punctuation  marks  to  be  inserted. 
Otherwise  I  hasten  to  congratulate  Scribner's  Sons  on  a 
nice  bit  of  book  making.  The j" plum-color"  is  blue  on 
this  bright  St.  Patrick's  morning;  but  what's  the  odds? 
Allow  me,  also,  my  dear  Mr.  Morse  to  thank  you  for 
your  personal  interest.  Without  your  cooperation  the 
volume  would  be  still  snoozing  in  the  womb  of  night. 
And  last  though  not  least  I  am  much  obliged  for  the  six 
volumes.  As  I  pass  your  stately  building  on  Fifth 
Avenue,  I  feel  an  exultant  thrill — I  am  helping  to  pay 
off  the  mortgage!  Vide:  four  volumes  announced  in 
front  of  *' Overtones."  Some  day  when  the  list  has 
swelled  to  14  or  more  I  hope  the  firm  will  pension  me 
off  as  a  testimony  of  all  the  good  work  I  have  accom- 
plished; the  printers  and  papermakers  I  have  kept  busy; 
the  proof  readers  I  have  driven  crazy;  the  tremendous 
amount  of  cheque  paper  I  have  used  in  royalty  pay- 
ments !  K  ' 

I\b    eVCl,  T  -'T  T 

James^Huneker 

To  Edwin  W,  Morse 

The  CarroIIton 

March  21st  1904 
(and  it  hails  like  hell  on 

T>.  TVT      AT  my  roof!) 

Dear  Mr.  Morse: 

Thanks  for  your  encouraging  words.     No,   I'm  not 

robbing  myself  of  the  Strauss  tickets.      Monday  night 

I  work — at  play.     I  will  enjoy  myself  at  **The  Wizard 

of  Oz"   around  the  corner  from  Carnegie   Hall  while 


20    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

you  sweat  and  toil  over  the  domesticities  of  the  Wizard 
of  Munich!  "The  Tragic  Wall"  is  mine  own — not 
Nietzsche  &  Co.  It  is  derived  from  a  remark  of  Victor 
Hugo  in  one  of  his  immortal — and  therefore  forgotten — 
prefaces  I — to  the  effect  that  mankind  is  ever  attracted 
by  the  mystery  of  something  happening  behind  a  wall  on 
the  stage;  *'The  Mystic  Abyss"  of  Wagner,  his  orchestra, 
was  a  musical  equivalent.  Better  still  Ibsen  said  that 
the  modern  drama  should  be  enacted  in  a  room  with 
the  "fourth  wall  removed"  so  that  the  audience  could 
watch  what  happened  &c.  Voild !  the  genesis  of  a  fetch- 
ing title.  r  only  hope  it  may  interest  an  audience  of 
readers. 

Krehbiel  bought  a  copy  of  "Overtones."  I  saw  him 
at  the  Boston  Symphony  Saturday  afternoon — where 
Joseffy  played  like  a  Greek  God — and  really  he  was 
lovely.  He  told  me  that  he  liked  the  book  but  wondered 
how  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  holy,  I  could  have  made 
the  statement  that  Mary  Magdalen  tempted  Jesus  in  a 
projected  drama  by  R.  Wagner — the  genuine  forerunner 
to  "Parsifal."  You  may  imagine  that  I  was  upset  by 
the  question — until  I  reached  home.  There  I  found  my 
authority  in  a  book  called  "Parsifal"  by  KufFerath,  page 
1 60  with  an  introduction  by  H.  E.  Krehbiel.  Not  con- 
tent I  looked  up  Henderson's  "Wagner."  On  page  470 
the  thing  was  bluntly  written.  To-night  I  received  a 
letter  from  Henderson  who  advised  me  to  read  Finck's 
"Wagner"  Vol.  II  p.  398.  There  again,  quoting  Frau 
Wille's  memoirs,  the  story  is  told  at  length.  Henderson 
added,  characteristically  enough,  that  because  Wagner 
suppressed  the  incident  in  his  scenario,  Krehbiel  refuses 
to  believe  it  was  ever  contemplated.  Writes  W.  J.  H. 
"All  the  Wagner  commentators  have  agreed  that  the 


rO  WALTER  PRICHARD   EATON  21 

idea  was  in  W's  mind  at  one  time.     But  the  Dean  will 

not  be  convinced." 

I  put  this  on  paper,  not  in  triumph  but  to  prove  that 

my  statement  was  not  without  warrant  historically.     In 

a  word,  all  these  "Parsifal"  lecturers  who  have  been 

swearing  black  is  white,  swearing  that  Parsifal  is  not 

Jesus  Christ  transposed  to  a  Wagnerian,  and  therefore, 

theatrical  key,  will  have  to  stick  to  their  first  statement. 

But  Fm  on  firm  ground.  *     p^^^ 

As  Hver,      j^^^^^  Huneker. 

To  Walter  Prichard  Eaton 

Mr.  Walter  Pritchard  Eaton,  the  dramatic  critic  and  author,  was 
at  this  time  on  the  staff  of  The  New  York  Tribune. 

The  CarroIIton 

March  25,  1904 

Brace  up,  Eaton,  old  chap !  I've  only  read  your  let- 
ter this  afternoon.  As  you  know,  I  go  to  the  office  but 
once  a  week — ghost-day !  I  really  hope  matters  are  not 
so  bad  as  you  represent  them.  I  fear  that  you  sufi'er 
from  a  complaint  peculiar  to  men  of  fine  nerves  and 
brains — an  undue  sensitivity  to  what  people  say  to  you. 
I  have  carefully  cultivated  a  stout  integument  of  dis- 
dain; above  all — irony.  Never  lose  your  perception  of 
the  world  and  its  ways  as  a  purely  relative  affair.  When 
I  find  myself  raging  over  some  injustice,  or  smarting 
from  disagreeable  criticism,  I  always  fall  back  on:  Quand 
memel  Then  I  swim  at  the  Turkish  bath  and  all  is  for- 
gotten. Now  after  all  this  tommy-rot  advice,  let  me  tell 
you  how  matters  stand  at  my  office.  I  have  no  assist- 
ants. There  is  a  man  who  gathers  news  at  the  theatres; 
you  know  him  I    When  two  or  three  openings  collide  the 


22    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

city  desk  covers  them  like  any  other  events — a  news 
story.  Then  I  push  ray  portly  person  over  the  city  and 
hear  and  digest  the  lovely  stuff  offered  the  public.  My 
"beat"  extends  from  the  American  Theatre  to  the  Peo- 
ple's; from  the  Thalia  to  the  Harlem  Opera  House.  Would 
I  like  to  have  you  with  us?  Well — I  should  say  sol 
If  you  are  in  the  same  humor,  next  June  let  me  know. 
But  I  sha*n't  promise.  Indeed  it  is  better  to  expect  noth- 
ing— ^who  knows  where  I  shall  be  next  October !  I'm  up 
to  my  eyes  in  work,  now.  Pardon  my  delay  in  answer- 
ing. It  was  not  my  fault.  My  address  above  is  always 
sure  to  catch  me  quickest.  I  admire  your  critical  work 
and  I  do  not  think  that  you  should  be  discouraged.  I 
began  dramatic  criticism  in  1881.  And  that's  a  long 
time  to  wait  for  a  hearing. 

Fraternally 

James  Huneker 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

Confidential  rp,    ^      ,. 

Ihe  Carrollton 

Dear  Harry  April  26,  1904 

Walters  told  me  last  night  that  you  were  making  merry 
over  the  fact,  that  I  was  at  Lii  chow's  Friday  and  yet 
could  not  go  there  Tuesday.  Best  of  men  it  really  dis- 
concerts me  to  have  you  disbelieve  me.  Tuesday  night 
I  went  to  the  Harlem  harlot,  "Camille"  of  Miss  Harned, 
for  Wed,  Thurs,  Friday  I  was  at  the  German  Theatre  for 
the  joint  appearance  of  Bonn  &  Christians.  Wed.  I  went 
to  Liichow's  in  the  entr'acte  to  see  Liichow  about  a 
waiter  I  recommended  him.  I  wrote  my  copy  corner 
26th  &  Broadway  as  I  write  all  my  copy  but  went  home 
with  Mrs.  Huneker.  I  felt  badly  ditto.  Friday  after 
the  show,  after  my  copy  was  in,  after  my  Sunday  stufif 


TO  H.   E.  KREHBIEL  23 

was  handed  in  I  went  to  L.  with  a  small  party  and  en- 
joyed an  hour.  As  I  told  you  old  man  I  can't  stay  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  week  and  attend  to  my  work.  My 
sporting  days  are  over.  But  Friday  or  Sat.  are  different. 
There  is  no  "to-morrow."  Then  of  course  I  understand 
that  Matt  had  no  other  day  in  the  week.  I  was  secretly 
flattered  and  openly  pleased  at  your  invitation.  As  I 
wrote  to  Spanuth,  though  I'm  far  from  being  a  sentimen- 
tal "cuss,"  I  know  who  my  friends  are.  I've  made  no 
new  ties  during  the  past  2  years  for  my  heart  is  in  the 
highlands — of  music  and  not  in  this  beastly  miasma  of 
the  theatre.  Fate  shoved  me  there,  perhaps  fate  may 
shove  me  back  again.  So  while  I  doubtless  take  Walters' 
remark  too  seriously  yet  I  confess  nothing  would  wound 
me  more  than  the  loss  of  your  affection  or  respect.  I 
gave  you  my  word  last  week.  I  give  it  again — it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  be  present  at  that  dinner,  and  now 
let's  drop  the  matter,  which  may  seem  silly  to  you.  I'm 
a  stranger  in  a  strange  land  Harry,  and  I  find  more  and 
more  every  day  that  a  position  in  a  daily  is  a  dangerous 
thing;  your  scalp  is  ever  sought  by  the  pushing  throng. 
Some  day  my  nerves  will  rebel  and  I'll  go  back  to  piano 
teaching;  (I  play  2  hours  daily)  lovely,  cooling  profession 
where  bad  actors  and  cross  editors  are  not  in  evidence. 
I  hope  you  will  have  a  nice  time  in  Cincinnati. 

As  Ever        -r 
Jim 

To  H.  E.  Krebhiel 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Harry  June  4-1904 

Here  is  the  first  copy  off  the  press  of  the  Shaw  book.* 
I  got  it  for  Brentano's,  hence  their  gratitude.  I  received 
a  copy  of  the  English  edition  last  Fall  and  reviewed  the 

*  "Man  and  Superman." 


24    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

play  at  length  in  The  Sun,  in  return  for  which  I  got  a 
red  hot  letter  from  Shaw.  I  "roasted"  the  play  qua 
play,  and  pointed  out  the  obligation  of  the  author  to 
Schopenhauer,  Nietzsche — especially  Nietzsche — W.  S. 
Gilbert,  Voltaire,  Swift,  Vauvenargues  and  other  French 
epigrammatists.  Yet  the  preface  is  good  reading  and 
the  scene  in  hell  with  Don  Juan  and  the  Devil  will  keep 
you  laughing  in  a  hot  day  [though  I  lighted  on  a  similar 
situation  in  Grabbe's  drama  "Dai  Juan  and  Faust"  in 
which  by  the  way  the  phrase  iibermensch  occurs,  bor- 
rowed I  suppose  from  "Faust"  Zweiter  theil].  Nothing 
new  under  the  Sun. 

Mrs.  Huneker  was  very  sorry  to  hear  that  you  were 
invited  the  other  night — which  sounds  dubious  but  merely 
means  that  she  regrets  having  missed  you.  She  was  not 
well  enough  to  sit  up  for  a  couple  of  hours  in  a  chair  you 
understand!  We  go  to  Phila.  Tuesday  so  I  shan't  see 
you  until  the  late  Fall.  Aug.  6th  we  sail  for  Hamburg 
returning  Oct.  15  or  thereabouts.  My  new  book  is 
nearly  ready  and  with  the  "local  color"  of  a  few  visits 
to  certain  persons  I  hope  to  see  it  in  print  next  February. 
My  new  ideal  is  now  sanity.  I'm  doing  the  heavy  pon- 
derous sane  act,  Harry.  I  know  it  spells  dullness  but  I 
loathe  being  called  "clever"  and  "brilliant."  I'm  neither 
— I  work  too  seriously  for  the  one  and  I'm  too  old  for  the 
other.  However  my  dear  boy  this  is  not  the  time  or 
place — Or  the  Weather — to  define  horizons  literary  or 
musical.  I  do  hope  Mrs.  Krehbiel  is  better  and  that 
with  die  Schone  Helena  you  will  all  have  a  quiet,  long, 
happy  summer.  I  will  not.  My  affairs  are  again  as  you 
have  heard,  in  an  upset  condition — I  see  my  ideal  time 
coming — no  more  daily  journalism!  Heaven  send  it 
soon:  I'm  sick  of  music  and  the  theatres.     Next  Fall  I 


TO  ELIZABETH  JORDAN  25 

hope  to  welcome  you  in  other  and  commodious  apart- 
ments if  we  can  get  them.  Good  bye.  God  bless  you  old 
chap  and  don't  forget  that  I  think  of  you  often.       , 

To  Elizabeth  Jordan 

This  letter  relates  to  the  series  of  articles  on  "The  Eternal  Woman," 

referred  to  above,  which  Mr.  Huneker  was  writing  for  Harper's 

Bazaar, 

The  CarroIIton,  July  15,  1904 
Dear  Miss  Jordan: 

Enclosed  are  three  articles  as  ordered,  with  one  excep- 
tion as  to  subject: — I  did  not  write  a  "Richard  Strauss 
and  the  Eternal  Woman"  because  there  is  no  "woman" 
in  his  music;  and  also  because  I  tacked  on  the  "Eternal 
&c"  to  the  Maeterlinck  story  which  has  Just  appeared  in 
the  Bazaar.  So  I  included  the  consideration  of  R.  Strauss 
in  the  article  entitled  "Feminism  in  Modern  Music" 
(herewith  enclosed).  The  third  article  is  the  one  on 
Chopin's  "Lost  Loves"  which  I  thought  a  better  title 
than  "The  Unknown  Loves  &c  of  &c."  The  second  arti- 
cle I  recommend  to  your  editorial  consideration.  As  I 
wrote  of  the  maidens  in  the  Maeterlinck  dramas  the  idea 
occurred  to  me  that  a  companion  article  on  "The  Ibsen 
Girls" — or  maidens,  Just  as  you  prefer.  I  have  done  so. 
The  Ibsen  women  are  all  will,  Just  as  Maeterlinck's  are 
will-Iess.  As  I  intend  publishing  50,000  words  about 
Ibsen  in  my  next  book  on  the  modern  drama,  the  subject 
was  uppermost  in  my  mind;  though  the  enclosed  essay  is 
absolutely  fresh,  written  last  Tuesday  and  will  not  be  in- 
cluded in  my  longer  study.  I  sincerely  hope  you  will 
like  it.  The  idea  is  novel;  the  treatment  careful — I  could 
not  risk  any  discussion  of  social  problems,  so  Just  stuck 
to  the  personality  of  each  of  his  girl  characters  culled 


26    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

from  25  plays.  If  you  think  the  word  "girls"  is  too  un- 
dignified or  colloquial,  how  will  "The  Maidens  of  Ibsen's 
Plays"  do  as  a  title?  However,  I  leave  this  in  your  al- 
ways prudent  hands.  Also — may  I  suggest  that  the 
Ibsen  story  appear  first  in  order  as  it  will  then  supple- 
ment the  Maeterlinck  Just  published.  Also — if  you  send 
me  proofs  of  3  stories  before  August  ist  I  shall  read  and 
correct  them,  thus — possibly — saving  you  some  trouble. 
Also — I  promise  that  if  you  allow  me  to  call  and  say 
good-bye  to  you  the  week  of  Aug.  ist  some  afternoon,  I 
shall  not  talk  so  much  as  I  have  done  in  this  letter.  I 
feel  quite  hoarse!  Also — and  this  is  the  last — I  have 
taken  particular  pains  with  these  3  stories  as  I  wish  you 
to  like  them  and  order  some  more  after  Jan.  ist,  1905. 

And  now  auj  wiederseben!  Pardon  my  many  super- 
fluous explanations. 

Sincerely  As  Ever 

James  Huneker 

To  H.  E.  Krehhiel 

The  CarroIIton 
Dear  Harry.  J^^y  24,  1904 

You  will  pardon  my  delay  in  answering  your  kind  and 
interesting  letter  when  I  tell  you  that  I  can  hardly  hold 
a  pen.  I've  been  writing  5000  words  a  day,  even  more, 
and  this  for  the  past  two  months.  I'm  fagged  out  and 
ready  to  cry  aloud  at  my  own  shadow.  If  this  is  to  be 
the  pace,  I'll  be  damned  glad  to  get  back  at  the  old 
leisurely  newspaper  grind — which  after  all  is  normal  and 
more  rhythmic.  However  I  suppose  it  is  the  result — my 
fatigue,  I  mean — of  pitching  in  at  the  end  of  the  regular 
dramatic  season.  My  new  book  I  think  you  will  like — 
it's  steady t  the  tone  is  of  a  oneness,  and  even  if  you  will 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  27 

disagree  with  my  premises,  you  may  admit  that  I  have  a 
firm  grip  on  their  development. 

No,  I  haven't  been  able  to  get  hold  of  The  Tribune  of 
the  14th  July.  Is  that  the  date?  You  see  I  only  read 
the  paper  on  Sundays  and  Mondays — your  days.  I  saw 
the  obliquity  of  your  remark  this  morning.  /  don't  like 
N.  Code;  /  haven't  heard  the  "Domestica";  so  my  withers 
are  unwrung,  lieber  Heinrich!  Besides  I  dislike  sym- 
phonic works  of  over  30  or  40  minutes.  They  might  as 
well  be  operas — as  you  insinuate.  The  Spectator  I  here- 
with return.  I  had  seen.  Thanks  for  courtesy — who  is 
"C.  L.  G."     Is  it  Graves?     I  never  even  knew  the  name 

of  the  regular  Spectator  man.    And  it's  hard  on , 

sabres  him  neatly  by  merely  printing  the  names  of  the 
composers  he  doesn't  admire.  Well,  old  man,  our  diver- 
gent tastes  in  art  matters  will  never  sever  our  friendship. 
Damn  the  silliness  and  smallness  that  can't  stand  criti- 
cism. You  have  praised  my  w^ork,  you  have  a  perfect 
right  to  pound  it,  anyhow  I  learn  something — though 
you  will  not  shake  my  belief  in  the  power  of  R.  S.  (Rich- 
ard Strauss)  no  matter  the  smallness  of  the  man.  Your 
position  is  more  logical  than  Finck's.*  You  have  never 
raved  over  Berlioz  or  Liszt — and  Strauss  is  the  inevita- 
ble outcome  of  that  worthy  pair  of  instrumental  stylists, 
who  have  much  to  say  in  color  but  let  music  go  hang. 
Of  the  two  I  like  Liszt  the  better.  He  has  guts  and  he 
has  grandiose  moments — a  great  actor  in  tone,  like  his 
more  gifted  son-in-law.  R.  W.  However  no  use  in  tell- 
ing you  !  How  are  you?  How  is  your  beloved  Missus? 
How  is  Miss  Helen?  How  are  the  three  flower-pots. 
Give  them  our  regards.  Give  yourself  our  regards.  Re- 
member me  to  the  Kneisels.  We  sail  on  the  6th — hochste 
zeit.  As  Ever  j^^^ 

*  Henry  T.  Finck,  music  critic  of  The  New  York  Evening  Post. 


28    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

Mr.  Rosebault,  fellow  newspaper  man  and  author,  was  an  early 
associate  of  Mr.  Huneker,  and  one  of  his  most  intimate  correspon- 
dents throughout  his  career. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Karl:  Aug.  3,  1904 

Just  my  luck  to  miss  you !  I  went  in  to-day  with  the 
faint  hope  that  you  might  be  there; — but  the  brand  new 
office,*  all  a-glitter  and  brave  with  polished  woods  was 
an  empty  cage.  The  bird  was  in  Pelham  listening  to 
music !  For  fear  that  you  will  think  I'm  at  the  Pilsner 
Urquell  before  the  ship  goes  I  hasten  to  add  that  Mr. 
LafFan  was  amiable  enough  to  give  me  some  15  minutes 
of  his  time  and  we  had  a  pleasant  talk — without  any 
after  taste !  We  spoke  of  pictures  and  Paris.  If  I  knew 
as  much  of  paintings  as  William  Laffan,  Esq.,  I  would 
get  a  job  as  critic  on  The  Sun.  But  I  don't; — so  I  didn't 
ask  for  it. 

But  my  dear  boy  if  I  can't  be  on  The  Sun,  the  next 
best  thing  is  being  in  it — and  as  I've  written  just  35,000 
words  for  magazines  (all  paid  for  by  this  time;  though  it 
is  easier  to  write  than  collect !)  I  hope  to  be  quoted  occa- 
sionally. We  sail  Saturday  at  noon — "Pennsylvania," 
Hamburg-American  line,  Hoboken.  We  return  Novem- 
ber 1st  on  "Moltke."  Address  permanent  is  Brown, 
Shipley  &  Co.,  123  Pall  Mall,  London,  W.,  until  October 
1 8th  anyhow.  Good-bye  Charles!  Say  good-bye  to 
Mrs.  Rosebault  for  both  of  us.     I  hope  you  both  will 

have  a  nice  vacation  in  Canada.         . 

As  ever  , 

I'll  send  a  postal  from  Pilsen ! 

Have  I  made  a  ten-strike !     Oh  my  !     Boodle  to  burn — 

$2000  in  6  weeks.     Get-ap !     Charlie  you  are  a  prophet ! 

*  The  Sun. 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  29 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

The  CarroIIton 
—,  TT  Aug.  3rd  1004 

Dear  Harry  &  o      y  ^ 

Just  a  line  before  I  leave  to  say  that  the  criticism  was 
sent  me  as  you  requested.  For  which  thanks.  You  did 
me  proud  and  yourself  proud  for  it  is  one  of  the  best 
written,  closest  in  logic,  cogent,  luminous  criticisms  you 
ever  wrote — and,  of  course,  hopelessly  wrong  because 
you  start  from  false  premises.  How  about  the  Pastoral 
Symphony?  How  about  all  the  Wagner  music  dramas 
— Rossini  music  would  according  to  you  fit  the  libretto 
of  Wagner,  because  there  is  no  such  thing  as  character- 
istic music !  However  lieber  Heinrich  it's  no  use  talking 
aesthetic  in  August.  R.  Strauss  Esq.  is  a  damned  big 
man,  judging  from  the  dust  he  has  raised.  Enclosed 
may  interest  you.  Regards  to  the  mispocach !  and  don't 
forget  yourself!     I'll  write  from  Weimar. 

With  Love,  as  Ever 

Jim 
Music  must  progress  or — rot ! 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

Weimar, 
September  24,  1904. 

Lieber  Harry 

I  thought  of  you  this  week  more  than  once  as  I  went 
through  this  ever  charming  town.  Everything  is  as  it 
stood  last  year;  Europe  does  not  change  its  physiognomy 
as  does  America.  Whether  this  be  a  good  or  a  bad  sign 
I  leave  to  social  philosophers.  One  thing  is  certain — 
Weimar  is  a  spot  for  weary  souls,  nervous  souls;  persons 
who  will  insist  on  going  to  Marienbad  for  a  month  to 
lose  flesh  only  to  put  it  on  again  a  few  months  later. 


30    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

We  had  a  cold  Kur  at  Marienbad  this  summer.  Four 
weeks  of  chilly,  raw  or  bitter  cold  weather  is  not  condu- 
cive to  schurtzerei.  So  after  6  or  8  hours  a  day  hill  climb- 
ing, starvation,  hunger  and  thirst — above  all  thirst — I 
only  took  off  I2  lbs.  and  by  the  Lord  Harry  I  am  putting 
them  on  again  as  fast  as  my  throat  can  swallow  good,  old 
Pilsner  and  comforting  Thuringian  cooking ! 

We  overdid  the  walking  here  so  in  consequence  we  are 
both  laid  up  at  this  hotel  with  bad  colds  and  sore  legs. 
We  walked  to  Jena — 5  hours.  I  wanted  to  see  if  the 
plum-trees  were  so  plentiful  as  the  time  when  Heine 
walked  over  here  from  Jena  to  visit  the  god-like  Goethe. 
They  are — and  so  are  the  stones.  A  dusty  walk.  To 
Tiefurt  proved  prettier,  also  the  ascent  to  Schloss  Belvi- 
dere  in  Ober- Weimar.  We  went  over  to  Eisenach  for 
the  day,  saw  die  theure  Hall,  and  rode  like  sensible  folk 
in  a  railroad  car  to  Erfurt  the  same.  I've  seen  every- 
body on  the  Liszt  matter;  had  a  dozen  introductions  here 
from  Burmeister  and  others.  The  Stahr  sisters,  Baronin 
V.  Meysenderf  and  others  still  live.  Most  of  all  I 
enjoyed  an  afternoon  with  Frau  Elizabeth  Foerster- 
Nietzsche  up  at  her  beautiful  villa — Nietzsche  Archiv. 
There  I  revelled  in  the  pictures,  books,  busts  and  corre- 
spondence. At  last  I  got  at  the  Wagner  affair.  This 
sister  is  a  woman  of  wonderful  energy.  She  loves  her 
brother's  memory  to  veneration  point.  She  drew  for  me 
a  different  portrait  of  the  man.  She  regrets  the  Wagner 
incident  and  spoke  with  tenderness  and  respect  of  Rich- 
ard and  Cosima.  As  usual  Harry,  mutual  friends  fo- 
mented bad  blood  between  the  men. 

I  enclose  programme  [of  "Fidelio"]  as  it  might  inter- 
est you.  The  performance  was  sound,  straightforward 
rather  than  brilliant.     But  it  did  my  dusty  old  soul  good 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  31 

to  hear  the  tremendous  second  act.  Bad  as  is  the  book; 
ridiculous  as  are  the  situations — I  mean  theatrically — 
there  is  music  in  this  act  that  makes  the  stars  sing. 
What  a  duet!  The  Leonora  was  Thila  Plaschinger  als 
Cast.  She  is  a  big  woman  of  the  Valkyr  type  with  a 
voice  that  at  times  recalls  the  steel-blue  tones  of  the 
only  Lilli  Lehmann.  But  there  the  likeness  ends  as  her 
tone  production  is  very  Teutonic.  A  superb  actress  nev- 
ertheless and  so  the  "Abscheulicher"  had  meaning,  elo- 
quence, rage  and  pathos.  Stunning  too,  was  the  acting 
in  Act  II.  Pizarro  was  excellent — a  visitor  from  Han- 
over. The  rest  not  bad.  The  chorus  good — every  man 
acted  and  sang.  The  conductor  Kryzanowski — I  wonder 
is  he  any  relative  to  the  Chopin  maternal  branch? — de- 
serves a  better  band.  Its  material  is  mediocre,  especially 
the  wood;  as  is  the  case  in  Germany.  Only  6  first  fid- 
dles; about  38  men.  But  they  whizzed  through  the  Leo- 
nora No.  3  which  opened  the  evening.  No  other  over- 
ture was  given,  the  second  act  beginning  with  the  usual 
introductory  measures. 

I  hear  Mahler  in  Vienna  has  made  some  sweeping 
changes  in  the  staging  of  "Fidelio" — FrI.  Mildenberg 
wears  an  Andalusian  costume;  swaggers  like  a  youth, 
avoids  feminine  postures  and  really  looks  masculine.  He 
plays  the  Leonora  No.  3  between  the  Zwischen  akt — or 
while  the  stage  is  being  set  for  the  last  scene,  using  the  E 
major  Fidelio  at  the  start  [isn't  it  E?]  It  seems  to  me 
SeidI  did  something  of  the  sort  and  did  it  years  ago. 
We  also  saw  the  "Goetz  von  Berlichingen"  the  night  of 
its  looth  anniversary  and  a  heavy  work  it  is.  Goethe 
was  miles  behind  Schiller  in  his  sense  of  dramatic  form. 
Best  of  all  was  the  **Freischutz"  which  is  quite  within 
the  capabihties  of  the  company,  the  stage  manager  and 


32    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

the  band.  They  attempt  big  things  in  this  historic  little 
house — "Meistersinger'*  is  announced,  so  is  **Tann- 
hauser."  And  now  old  man  I  must  stop  boring  you.  I 
hope,  across  an  oaken  table,  to  tell  you  the  gossip  I 
picked  up.  We  return  in  November.  Future  move- 
ments— Berlin  next  week  for  a  cycle  of  Ibsen  and  Haupt- 
mann  plays;  opera  and  concerts.  Ansorge  is  a  frequent 
visitor  here,  so  is  Von  Wildenbruch,  R.  Dehmel,  R. 
Strauss,  d' Albert  and  the  poet  Detlev  v.  Liliencron.  Vo- 
grich  is  a  great  figure  since  his  "Buddha"  was  sung.  It 
is  to  be  given  soon  in  Paris.  He  lives  here.  They  speak 
now  in  the  newspapers  of  "The  new  Weimar" — but  I 
fancy  it  will  not  be  remembered  as  long  as  the  old  of 
Goethe  or  even  as  the  middle-aged  Weimar  of  Liszt.  I 
hope  you  are  well  and  escaped  Worcester !  Mrs.  Hune- 
ker  joins  me  in  regards  to  the  family. 

With  Love  from 


Jim 


To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 


Dear  Charles:  Weimar,  Germany,  den  25th  Sep.,  1904. 

It's  more  than  probable  that  we  will  go  to  London  via 
Paris  for  a  few  days.  If  I  do  I  shall  call  on  Mr.  Blumen- 
feld;  also  on  the  Chamberlains.  I  am  sorry  I  gave  you 
the  impression  that  I  am  a  chronic  "Kicker"  in  my 
letters.  My  "wail"  was  for  good  weather  more  than 
anything  else.  Cold  days  are  bad  for  the  sweat-lovers 
who  train  in  the  hills  of  Marienbad.  Despite  4  hard 
weeks  I  only  reduced  12  lbs.  and  I  am  putting  them  on 
as  fast  as  my  thirst  machinery  will  work.  (So  far  it  is 
working  overtime.)  Damn  Europe  for  one  thing — cold, 
damp  rooms  in  early  Autumn.     They  are  all  alike  no 


TO  CHARLES  J.  ROSEBAULT  33 

matter  what  hotel  you  patronize.  Notwithstanding  bad 
colds  we  are  still  in  the  ring  and  diving  into  Liszt  trea- 
sures. I've  secured  the  picture  of  the  old  Hausfrau  who 
made  Liszt's  bed  for  30  years.  There's  journalism  for 
you  I  I  also  spent  a  charming  afternoon  with  Frau 
Elizabeth  Forster-Nietzsche,  the  devoted  sister  of  the 
great,  dead  philosopher.  So  I'm  loaded  for  bear  when  I 
go  home — not  to  mention  other  people  I've  met.  This 
town  is  simply  a  harbor  for  memories  of  Goethe,  Jean 
Paul  Richter,  Schiller,  Wieland,  Herder,  Liszt  and  his 
cohorts  and  now  Nietzsche — who  died  here  in  1900. 
His  sister  lives  in  a  noble  villa  wherein  are  the  Nietzsche 
archives.  Can't  you  see  me  moving  around  like  a  ner- 
vous nightmare  among  the  books,  letters,  pictures,  busts 
and  all  the  treasures  of  this  artistic  home  I  I  found  to 
my  surprise  my  "Chopin"  and  "Mezzotints"  and 
"Overtones"  on  the  table,  upon  which  reposes  a  forest 
of  books  dealing  with  the  Nietzschean  philosophy. 
Nothing  published  escapes  the  eagle  eye  of  this  remark- 
ably intellectual  and  attractive  woman.  She  is  a  wonder. 
We  go  to  Berlin  next  week  and  as  soon  as  I  find 
out  Strindberg's  address  northward  we  make  our  way. 
Daddy  Ibsen  I  do  not  expect  to  see.  If  the  cold  endures 
— it  is  freezing  every  dawn — no  Scandinavia  for  Willy 
but  good  old  London  town  with  its  tea  and  muffins.  I 
hope,  if  luck  endures,  to  drift  in  on  you  some  noon  in 
November  and  take  you  to  luncheon — also  read,  if  you 
so  desire,  the  part  or  parts  of  this  screed  you  cannot  de- 
cipher. (That,  Charles,  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all — 
the  allusion  to  a  type  machine!)  Mrs.  Huneker  wishes 
to  be  remembered  to  Mrs.  Rosebault  and  to  Mr.  Rose- 
bault.    So  do  I.       With  regards  as  ever  from  j^^^ 


1905 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

The  CarroUton 

Dear  Ned  ^'''- ''  "'°^ 

For  heaven's  sake  don't  take  me  too  literally !  I  meant 
to  let  the  gang  alone — it  never  pays  (and  it  makes  certain 
people  more  important).  Rather  than  have  you  change 
your  style — if  such  a  thing  were  possible — I  would  lose 
your  friendship.  As  it  is  your  copy  this  week  is  to 
chortle  over.  Ripping  good!  Don't  write  with  grave 
pauses,  profound  smirks  and  all  the  pompous,  silly, 
amatory  mean  little  reservations,  attenuations,  peri- 
phrases and  involutions  of  your  contemporaries.  Far 
better  an  honest  staccato  phrase  than  a  wilderness  of 
sostenutos.  And  now  I  have  done  trying  to  play  the 
schoolmaster — a  sad  role  for  me  to  essay.  I  hope  you 
are  not  offended!  I  see  by  The  Herald  this  morning 
that  "The  Circus"  was  a  success.  Alas!  Such  rot!  All 
right  in  a  small  theatre  but  you  can't  spread  a  genre 
picture  over  the  canvas  of  a  historic,  or  epic,  etc.  Smear  is 
the  result.  If  "  The  Bat "  is  given  at  a  Matinee  the  Missus 
will  be  too  happy  to  swipe  the  tickets.  Why  the  refer- 
ence to  other  "men's  nerves"  in  your  copy.^  Naughty, 
naughty?  A  little  vulture  has  been  whispering  things 
in  my  ear.  Again — naughty.  Are  you  free  Feb.  26th 
— Sunday  at  1.30.  Dinner — no  fish.  Try  to  make  it. 
You  will  have  little  to  do  that  last  Sunday  of  Feb.  and 
the  opera.  I  have  little  to  tell  you  of  the  19th  Rhap- 
sody.   These  German  biographers  who  do  not  biograph  I 

34 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  35 

Composed  in  1884  (published  in  1886)  begins  with  the 
usual  Lassan  (Lento)  and  what  follows  is  an  adaptation 
(nach)  c.  Abranyis  "Czardas  Noble."  Lina  Romann 
who  avoids  details  whenever  she  can — though  she 
schwarms  by  the  yard  over  some  unimportant  event  in 
Liszt's  life — says  of  this  Rhapsody  and  the  other  four 
nos.  16-20  (the  latter  is  M.  S.  S.)  "Die  andern  funf 
Rhapsodien  von  ihm  in  den  i88oer  Jahren,  componirt, 
sind  mebr  Nachkldnge  einzelner  Momente  aus  jenen  und 
verfokten  andere  Zwecke,  obwohl  auch  sie  nationale 
Huldigungen  sind.  Einfach  ohne  ausseren  Schmuck, 
bleibt  die  Art  der  Durchfiihrung  der  Ungarischen  Ton- 
leiter  besonders  beachtens  w^erth."  I  have  underscored 
the  only  two  words  worth  while.  I  hope  you  can  stretch 
the  above  sparse  information  to  some  length.  It  only 
proves  to  you  the  formidable  task  I  have  ahead — with 
all  the  silly,  piddling  little  monographs  and  the  big,  loose 
Life  by  Romann  there  are  no  reference  works,  no  de- 
tailed study  of  the  compositions — beyond  dates  and 
vague  references  to  style.  What  a  job!  The  Scribner 
announcement  I  sent  you  was  an  uncorrected  proof; 
hence  the  missing  word. 

I  may  see  you  at  the  Boston  S.  [Symphony]  tomorrow. 
I  heard  d' Albert  play  another  concert  of  his  many  years 
ago  here  and  would  like  to  hear  the  E.  major  from  his 
fingers.  The  work  I  know — Brahms  &  Liszt  feature, 
themes  and  passages — with  thanks  to  you  and  Fred.  I 
have  an  order — but  I  won't  be  positive.  Answer  this  at 
leisure.  Wed.  &  Thursday  I  stayed  indoors — 8000 
words?  A  Shaw  story  for  Harpers;  and  a  story  of  5000 
words!  a  terror?     "The  Third  Kingdom."     Wait  till 

y^"  s^^  ^-  As  Ever  j^^ 


36    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  H.  E.  Krebbiel 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Harry  '^''"'^  ''"^-  "'"^ 

I  only  read  your  letter  late  last  evening  on  my  arrival 
from  Phila.  I  got  back  at  1.30  in  the  afternoon  and 
went  at  once  from  the  train  to  the  Knickerbocker  Thea- 
tre to  see  Ibsen's  latest  play,  thence  to  dinner  out — at 
midnight  I  opened  your  note  and  was  distressed  to  see 
that  it  bore  such  an  early  date.  Please  absolve  me  from 
any  suspicion  of  rudeness  or  neglect. 

Unfortunately  we  go  to  Atlantic  City  Monday  or 
Tuesday.  I  must  finish  20000  words  apportioned  among 
four  short  stories  (fiction)  in  as  many  days,  I  have  the 
titles,  even  the  themes — but  they  are  in  my  head,  not  on 
paper.  I  can't  dictate;  I  can't  type:  the  copy  is  prom- 
ised by  the  20th  inst.  It  must  be  typed  (my  schrift  is 
bad)  and  there  you  are !  I  assure  you  old  man  I  would 
be  glad  to  lend  you  a  hand,  but  it's  a  case  of  worry  with 
me  to  get  my  living.  First  to  write  stories,  secondly  to 
sell  them.  Thirdly — and  most  difficult — to  collect  your 
cash.  I'm  doing  well,  but  no  one  works  so  hard  as  for 
himself.  I  have  found  this  out.  I  had  intended  writing 
you  earlier  in  the  week  about  my  new  book — for  ever 
since  the  night  we  argued  so  desperately  10  years  ago 
and  more  at  Shanley's  on  6th  Ave.  &  23rd  Str — I  made 
up  my  mind  to  confute  you — i.  e.  confute  myself;  no 
apologist  is  fiercer,  more  sectarian  than  the  man  who 
doubts.  However  happily  I  am  convinced — I  can  give 
a  good  account  of  my  "Ibsen" — the  first  complete  and 
elaborate  study  in  English.  (Archer,  Boyesen,  Jaeger  &c. 
even  Brandes,  are  only  partial;  I  cover  the  entire  field  of 
Ibsen's  activities — of  course,  dramatically;  his  life  I  have 


TO  WALTER  PRICHARD  EATON  37 

not  touched  as  Gosse  and  Jaeger  have  written  several.)  I 
fancy  you  will  not  be  converted,  but  I  hope  that  you  will 
admit  that  I  put  up  a  good  fight;  above  all  nothing  over- 
heated, no  hysteria.  The  book — which  will  be  mailed 
to  you  Monday — is  as  closely  knitted  as  I  could  make 
it.  I  do  hope  you  w^ill  find  some  critical  Samaritan  to 
save  you  returning  from  Pittsburg.  Perhaps  it  is  better, 
after  all,  for  me  not  to  dabble  in  the  old  game.  O.  P.* 
in  Courier  some  years  ago  (?)  reviewed  the  Strauss 
setting  of  the  "  Uhland  Ballad."  He  said  that  it  was  sane 
music.  I  don't  like  Strauss  when  he  is  sane — no  com- 
poser has  any  right  to  be  sane,  except  Kapellmeister  musi- 
kindcherei !  There  Harry — I'll  stop !  you  will,  I  know 
understand  that  I  am  not  churlishly  inclined  in  the  mat- 
ter. I  hope  to  get  to  the  last  Philharmonic.  Good  luck 
and  a  safe  journey.         ^y-^j^  ^^^^^^^       ^^  ^^^^ 

Jim 

To  Walter  Prichard  Eaton 

Confidential 

The  CarroIIton, 

Dear  Eaton  March  29th,  1905. 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter,  which  I  enjoyed  for 
itself,  apart  from  the  pleasant  things  in  it  to  tickle  vanity. 
I  thank  you — this  is  a  W.  Whitman  catalogue;  or  it 
sounds  like  Jimmy  Alannering  answering  a  curtain  call 
for  The  Tribune  notice.  You  wrote  it  I  am  sure,  at  least 
it  sounds  the  way  you  speak — cadence  and  rhythm.  And 
then  it  "riled"  Staten  Island, f  I  am  certain. 

What  you  write  of  bibliography  is  partially  true — you 
may  not  remember  the  6  page  bibliography  in  my  "Cho- 
pin."    It  cost  me  much  labor.     And  it  was  "swiped"  in 

*  Old  Fogy,  a  pseudonym  of  Mr.  Huneker's. 
t  Staten  Island  is  William  Winter. 


38      LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

its  entirety  without  credit  by  an  English  "gent"  for  a 
pianola  edition  of  "Chopin."  Bibliographies  are  vain 
things.  Thirty  pages  I  prepared  for  "Iconoclasts" — ^you 
know  I  possess  a  capital  reference  library — but,  with 
30,000  words  (the  Pinero  essay  of  10,000  words  included) 
it  was  cut  out  of  the  plan.  "Iconoclasts"  is  a  deceptive 
volume.  It  contains  over  110,000  words;  the  paper  is 
thin  and  the  page  a  full-set  one.  Therefore  I  had  to 
sacrifice  Pinero,  Yeats,  Echegaray  and  other  moderns, 
together  with  a  corking  bibliography — you  may  imagine 
what  I  can  do  when  I  start  in  to  scoop  names ! 

I  don't  see  why  you  so  persistently  sport  the  monocle 
of  pessimism,  Eaton.  You  are  young,  gifted  and  your 
style  is  personal.  I  am  today  just  past  45:  10  years 
ago,  that  is  in  1895,  I  was  scooping  beats  for  the  dra- 
matic columns  of  The  Recorder.  From  1891  to  1897  I 
wrote  a  daily  column — the  Prompter — said  to  be,  by 
prominent  critical  authorities  in  the  Tenderloin  slums, 
the  best  of  its  kind.  Alan  Dale  was  doing  the  same  on 
The  Evening  World.  Someone  got  the  credit  of  my  work 
for  at  least  5  years — that  and  all  the  cash.  I  received 
a  dog's  annuity.  Then  I  grew  proud.  I  cut  loose 
and  ran  things  to  hell  on  The  Morning  Advertiser  for  2 
years.  I  was  a  lofty  failure.  So  you  see  that  ego  in 
Arcady,  I  was  a  dramatic  hobo-e.  To-day  I  am  a  lit- 
erary cocotte.  Cheer  up  Wallie!  Look  at  Thomas — 
never  the  doubting,  ever  the  serene  Thomas !  *  He  is  to 
pattern  after.  And  do  you  turn  in  copy  on  musical  sub- 
jects for  Jupiter  Tonans !  f  In  ten  years  you  w^ill  be  re- 
printing essays  and  buying  me  a  condescending  drink — 
who  knows.  Pardon  please  Williewinterisms — I  mean 
reminiscences  and  forecasts.     Later  I  hope  to  show  you 

*  A.  E.  Thomas,  playwright,  and  then  Mr.  Eaton's  roommate. 

t  H.  E.  Krehbiel,  music  critic  of  The  Tribune,  whom  Mr.  Eaton  then  assisted. 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  39 

something  in  the  Ibsen  line  that  will  knock  sky  high  my 
tentative  "Iconoclasts."  Ibsen,  mark  my  words,  is 
about  due  in  this  land  of  hysteria,  humbug  and  hayseeds. 
(Carriages  will  meet  the  Staten  Island  Ferry  boats  at 
10  A.  M.  No  flowers.  No  actors.  Please.)  Regards  to 
Thomas.  As  ever  James  Huneker 

Mr.  Walter  P.  Eaton 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 
Dear  Charles:  April  5,  1905 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  words,  though  being  on  a 
newspaper  has  made  no  difference  in  my  notices.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  The  Mail  wrote  a  stunning  column  review 
of  "Overtones'*  last  Spring,  and  The  Sun  gave  me  a  bet- 
ter notice  than  last  week's.  But  I'm  not  complaining. 
I'm  getting  them  by  the  column  from  Boston — and  surely 
such  a  charming  notice  as  the  one  in  The  Evening  Sun 
would  make  anyone  feel  proud.  But  I'm  not,  Charles, 
I'm  only  thirsty.  I've  finished  10  short  stories  in  four 
weeks  and  I  mean  to  run  down  some  day  for  you  at  mid- 
day to  take  you  out  to  a  bathtub  (a  bird's  bathtub  of 
course)  of  beer  and  some  rape-seed  on  the  side  for  an 
appetizer. 

I  hear  from  Scribners  that  "Iconoclasts"  has  gone  off 
with  a  rush — Ibsen  will  soon  be  a  hero  (he  comes  here 
next  season)  and  I  may  go  to  Europe  after  all.  Corbin* 
is  doing  excellent  work — don't  you  think  so?  Charlie — 
I  tried  to  like  "Adrea"t;  but  I  couldn't  do  it.  Too  melo- 
dramatic; too  much  red-fire  and  hell  for  me. 
Regards  to  Mrs.  Rosebault. 

As  Ever        j 
Jim 

*  John  Corbin,  critic  and  author  and  now  of  the  editorial  staff  of  The  New 
York  Times, 

t  The  play  by  John  Luther  Long  and  David  Belasco. 


40    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

Mr.  Edward  Clark  Marsh,  journalist,  author,  and  editor,  a  close 
friend  of  Mr.  Huneker's  throughout  the  greater  part  of  his  career,  was 
perhaps  as  much  in  his  confidence  as  any  man  in  respect  to  Mr. 
Huneker's  literary  plans  and  interests.  This  letter  relates  to  a 
story  which  was  put  before  the  editors  of  The  Smart  Set  through  Mr. 
Marsh  and  on  his  suggestion. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Marsh:  ^P"^  ^^'  ^905 

I  am  very  glad  to  read  your  kind  letter  but  it  is  a  pity 
you  were  bothered  to  write  such  a  long  one,  busy  man 
that  you  are.  The  S.  S.  [Smart  Set]  people  aided  by  you 
are  certainly  very  amiable  in  the  matter  of  letting  me 
down  easily.  I  am  sorry  that  Aholibah  has  knocked  in 
vain  at  the  portals.  It  is  such  a  serious  study — I  mean 
removed  as  far  as  I  could  contrive  from  the  usual  facti- 
tious cocotte  tale.  It  is  pure  invention — naturally  sup- 
plemented by  observation  &c.  on  the  Left  Bank.  I  used 
the  poem  for  the  poetic  tag — and  the  tag  I  put  in  her 
dying  lips  at  the  close.  I'd  been  reading  Swinburne  and 
a  modern  Aholibah  occurred  to  me — the  waiter  motive 
was  only  the  old  one  of  the  cat  may  look  at  the  queen — 
also  that  of  the  antique — the  slave's  Saturnalia.  "All 
these  things  in  a  short  story!"  you  will  say.  I  don't 
blame  you.  I've  finished  a  study  of  Mrs.  Piper,  the 
medium,  that  cost  me  infinite  pains.  I  have  also  a  stun- 
ner, "The  Sentimental  Rebelhon,"  a  story  of  Emma 
Goldman  and  East  Side  anarchy  with  the  millionaire  sen- 
timentalist d  la  settlement  workers  and  mesalliance 
brought  in.  It  is  the  real  anarch — not  the  Easter  egg  of 
the  Gelett  Burgess  fabrication.  I  mean  to  fetch  it  down 
Tuesday  or  Wed.  for  S.  S.  I  think  you  will  like  it — and, 
after  all  one  of  those  lovely  Marsh  letters  so  flattering 


TO  WILLIAM   MARION  REEDY  41 


to  the  unfortunate  author !  Do  send  me  a  galley  proof 
of  *Tan"  as  you  so  kindly  suggested.  I  need  it  for  my 
book — which  is  to  be  finished  next  week. 

As  Ever,  James  Huneker 

To  William  Marion  Reedy 

Mr.  William  Marion  Reedy,  who  had  a  national  reputation  as 
editor  and  owner  of  Reedy's  Mirror,  published  in  St.  Louis,  a  maga- 
zine of  independent  and  brilliant  comment  upon  art,  literature, 
politics,  and  society  in  general,  was  an  admirer  of  Mr.  Huneker's 
writings  and  a  warm  feeling  of  mutual  regard   subsisted  between 

them. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Reedy  Aug.  3rd,  1905 

No,  I  never  ask  managers  favors;  in  Mr.  F*s  [Charles 
Frohman]  case  I  couldn't  if  I  wished  to — I  never  saw 
him  in  my  life.  Besides  he  is  as  unapproachable  as  an 
Oriental  potentate.  Indeed,  for  a  man  who  has  been  in 
theatricals  here  for  20  years  my  acquaintance  with  actors 
and  managers  is  lamentably  small.  I  go  not  in  their 
purlieus;  and  I  am  thus  enabled  to  steer  clear  of  alliances 
that  might  prove  hampering.  Nowadays,  I'm  not  doing 
much  dramatic  criticism — I  resigned  from  The  Sun  for  a 
freer  hand  and  once  out  of  it  your  dearest  "theatrical" 
friends  look  another  way  when  they  meet  you.  Your 
young  friend — whose  brilliantly  written  critique  made 
me  blush — may  not  take  my  advice  but  I'll  tender  it  all 
the  same;  tell  her— don't !  It's  a  hell,  morally  and  physi- 
cally (mentality  is  an  absent  quantity).  She  uses  her 
pen  like  a  veteran.  WVite  novels  but — the  stage,  never ! 
However,  I  suppose,  literature  is  too  impersonal  for  the 
female  soul;  the  drama  does  make  the  appeal  rapid.  I'm 
sorry,  exceedingly,  that  I  am  as  innocent  as  a  newborn 


42    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

babe  in  such  matters;  but  I  have  always  understood  that 
youth  and  beauty  are  the  most  efficient  aids  in  climbing 
the  dramatic  Parnassus.  How  are  you?  I  sail  Aug. 
loth  for  Italy — Rome.  Fm  finishing  my  Liszt  book.  I 
produce  a  new  book  of  fiction  Oct.  14th  next.  I  have 
still  two  unsold  stories — sane  and  decent.  Can't  I  send 
them  to  you  for  your  inspection  before  I  go?  They  are 
moderate  in  tone  and  price,  and  Fm  in  no  hurry  for  that 
price.  The  only  thing  is  that  they  would  have  to  ap- 
pear by  Oct.  14th.  What  do  you  say! 
As  ever  with  thanks  for  your  courtesy 

James  Huneker 

To  E,  Ziegler 

Germany 
Dear  Bill.  ^^^^^^'  N.  W.  Sep.  15,  1905 

You  will  see  by  the  enclosed  that  we  have  had  a  close 
shave  with  death.  The  Berlin  despatches  are  meagre 
because  news  from  Holland  is  official,  i.  e.  The  Dutch 
Government  owns  the  railways  and  accidents  of  the  sort 
are  numerous  and  seldom  get  into  print.  We  left  Am- 
sterdam Sunday  morning  happy  to  escape  the  dampness 
— for  Little  Holland  is  wet! — and  exactly  ij4  hours  later 
our  train  left  the  track,  rolled  us  over  into  a  sand  ditch, 
smashed  the  3rd  class  carriage  ahead  of  us  into  kindling 
wood,  broke  legs,  arms,  backs  of  the  poor  devils  in  it, 
and  the  crash  of  wood,  iron,  broken  glass,  and  the  set- 
tling down  of  our  coach  and  the  tilting  over  scared  us 
into  stupid  silence.  The  "Missus"  never  lost  her  nerve 
and  followed  me  through  a  door  that  looked  like  the  let- 
ter S.  Outside  I  reafized  the  hideous  horror  that  we 
escaped — the  locomotive  stood  on  the  rails  ahead,  safe. 
If  it  had  gone  off* — phew !    No  Wilfie  writing  today  in 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  43 

this  hotel  where  we  tumbled  in  5  hours  later  than  we 
expected.  Sunday  night  from  7.15  a.  m.  to  11. 15  p.  m. 
is  a  long  day  and  with  a  derailment  is  no  joke.  The 
Missus  is  in  bed  today  sick,  bad  cold,  bad  nerves.  The 
grass  out  in  the  Dutch  meadows  was  water-soaked.  I 
suppose  the  spongy  soil  caused  the  rails  at  the  switch  to 
spread.  I  went  over  the  entire  scene  and  found  a  fish- 
plate with  the  bolt  heads  off — sheer,  rascally  careless- 
ness. The  locomotive  and  baggage  car  ran  up  the  regu- 
lar rails,  our  section — and  we  were  in  the  2nd  car,  a  heavy 
vestibule  one — ran  up  the  switch  but  did  not  stay  on  the 
rails  as  the  baggage  car  on  the  main  track  had  broken 
loose  from  the  engine  and  stood  at  right  angles  across 
the  rails.  Hence  the  terrifying  crash,  the  amputated 
toes,  feet,  hands  and  legs  in  the  car  ahead  of  us.  Poor 
devils !  Poor  sufferers !  It  was  a  horrible  vision  on  the 
sun-lit  meadows;  dotted  with  couching  cattle  and  peace- 
ful windmills  to  see  these  human  beings  cut  out  of  the 
car  with  axes  and  groaning  as  they  were  carried  down 
on  the  ladders !  I'll  never  forget  it.  I  crawled  back  for 
our  baggage,  cut  my  hand,  barked  my  shins  and  cursed 
the  Dutch.  Our  conductor  was  quite  at  ease.  "Schone 
iiberlaujen" — he  said  in  Dutch-German.  Instead  of  do- 
ing anything  for  us  they  seemed  to  think  we  ought  to  be 
glad  to  escape  alive.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  Ned,  we 
were.  When  the  first  grinding  of  the  wheels  began,  for 
about  10  seconds  Death  seemed  shudderingly  near.  After 
I  found  the  engine  safe  and  no  danger  from  steam  or  fire 
I  became  suddenly  brave  and  lighted  a  cigar;  but  my 
"guts"  shook  for  hours.  As  a  "nach  Kur,"  such  an  ex- 
perience is  not  helpful.  We  both  fear  the  ocean  trip — 
nerves  again.  I'll  be  glad  to  see  New  York,  glad  to  see 
your  familiar  "mug."    But  we  saw  all  the  Rembrandts  I 


44    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

So  much  for  Art.  The  entire  5  months  trip  has  been 
disquieting  and  unlucky.  I  managed  to  see,  hear  lots  of 
plays  and  operas  and  meet  lots  of  people — not  half  have 
I  written  of  them.  Tomorrow  I  go  to  see  "Dalibor"  by 
Smetana  at  the  Theater  des  Westens.  It  is  said  to  con- 
tain excellent  music.  And  only  once  abroad  did  I  hear 
the  names  of  Paderewski  and  the  de  Reszkes — Conried 
mentioned  them  casually  in  Vienna.  They  are  not  so 
well  known  in  Europe  as  in  America.  Thanks  for  news- 
papers— Hope  to  see  you  about  Sat.  Oct.  3rd.  With  re- 
gards from  both  As  Ever  , 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

Fisher's  Park  Hotel, 
Dear  Harry  Rome,  October  9,  1905. 

Just  a  few  lines  by  way  of  greeting  after  some  exciting 
experiences  in  the  earthquake  country — Calabria,  Mes- 
sina (Sicily).  We  spent  a  few  weeks  swimming  at  Sor- 
rento and  came  here  for  a  month.  I've  been  over  the 
entire  Liszt  ground — at  Villa  d'Este,  Tivoli;  slept  at  his 
old  hotel  Elibert  (kept  by  the  Fischer  of  this  hostelry) 
and  also  at  St.  Francesco  Kloster.  The  old  fellow  is  still 
remembered.  Fancy,  though,  coming  to  Rome  for  the 
Gregorian  music  at  St.  Peter's  and  only  hearing  a  mass 
by  Milozzi  fairly  well  sung  by  male  choir  (only  one  male 
soprano  with  a  voice  like  a  flute)  over  emphasis  in  the 
accents — operatic  you  would  say — and  no  spoor  of  Gre- 
gorian. Mr.  Lewis,  your  friend  from  New  York — he 
formerly  lived  on  East  i6th  St. — was  at  St.  Peter's  the 
morning  we  were  and  spoke  to  the  leader  of  the  choir, 
who  told  him  that  poverty  was  the  reason  the  Pope's 
plans  for  musical  reforms  were  not  carried  out. 

Another  disappointment  was  the  singing  of  the  French 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  45 


nuns  at  Trinita — Mendelssohn  wrote  special  music  for 
this  community.  If  Frank  Damrosch's  Musical  Art  So- 
ciety should  sing  in  such  a  mediocre  manner  we  would  all 
raise  a  howl,  and  in  Rome!  We  were  at  an  audience 
given  by  the  Pope  Pius  X  in  the  Vatican  last  Thursday 
afternoon,  Oct.  5,  and,  Harry— photographed  in  a  group 
with  his  Hohness !  Fancy  such  mundane  proceedings  in 
the  grand  old  Vatican.  I'm  no  better  Catholic  than  I 
was.  How  can  one  believe  in  the  pagan  city!  Even 
the  mass  takes  on  a  pagan  tone.  Why  even  Conried's 
"Parsifal"  circus  developed  a  more  pious  atmosphere. 

But  the  glories  of  the  two  vanished  civihzations,  the 
gardens,  palaces,  the  statuary,  pictures  and  churches  I 
It  is  an  education  and  a  Joy  to  live  here  for  a  day.  The 
Vatican  library  is  maddening.  You  pass  from  one  mas- 
terpiece to  a  million  more — black  letter  works  on  music, 
first  editions  of  Dante,  manuscripts  before  Christ.  In- 
deed Christ  and  Apollo  are  mixed  up  here.  How  I  wish 
you  were  here.  But  music — I've  heard  better  at  the 
Madeleine,  Paris;  above  all  heard  the  true  Gregorian 
chant  at  the  Benedictine  Monastery,  Solesmes,  before 
the  expulsion.  Hope  to  see  you  next  month  some  time. 
We  go  from  here  to  Florence,  Venice,  Milan,  Genoa — 
and  then  home.  Regards  from  both  (if  Mrs.  H.  stays 
much  longer  the  Pope  will  baptize  her;  I  am  hurr^^ng 
her  away  else  a  convent  looms  in  her  future !) 

As  ever  your  Old  Boy  j 

I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  summer  and  the  Beethoven 
will  be  ready  soon. 


46    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 

It  is  a  publisher's  custom  to  send  the  author  a  certain  number  of 
copies  of  his  book  upon  publication.  Mr.  Huneker  had  recently  re- 
ceived these  copies  of  his  "Visionaries"  when  he  wrote  this  note. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Morse:  '  Nov.  n,  1905 

Merely  a  line  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  the  vol- 
umes— for  which  I  am  obliged.  The  book  makes  a  bet- 
ter appearance — notwithstanding  its  sanguinary  tone — 
than  "Melomaniacs."  I  think  it  is  a  better  book.  But 
better  or  not  it's  the  last  I'll  ever  write  on  fantastic, 
exotic,  erotic,  esoteric,  idiotic  themes.  I'm  done.  Three 
months  with  Italian  paintings  and  Greek  marbles  have 
worked  the  cure — a  permanent  one.  I  have  locked  the 
doors  of  what  The  Tribune  calls  the  "half  way  house" 
and  chucked  the  key  down  the  mossy  well.  To  hell  with 
dark  tarns  of  Auber — or  Chopin — and  for  me,  glorious 
conventionalities.  All  of  which  may  not  interest  you 
but  may  make  for  greater  sales ! 

Yours  commercially,       x  tt 

"^       James  Huneker 


To  Edwin  W.  Morse 

The  CarroIIton, 

Dear  Mr.  Morse:     ^  November  17,  1905. 

The  day  you  gave  me  Mrs.  Wharton's  "House  of 
Mirth" — Tuesday,  I  think — I  began  reading  it  at  7:30 
p.  M.  and  ended  at  1:30  a.  m.  It  is  a  big  book,  big  be- 
cause she  has  dared  to  let  style  go  to  the  devil  and  stick 
to  characterization — a  renunciation,  I  fancy,  for  one  of 
her  temperament.  Who  is  going  to  dramatize  the  novel? 
It  contains  strong  scenes  in  abundance — an  embarrass- 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  47 

ment  of  dramatic,  even  theatric,  situations.  Much  of 
Lily  Bart  would  evaporate  in  the  hard,  dry  atmosphere 
of  the  theatre  but  that  Jew  Rosedale — he  would  loom  up 
magnificently.  I  am  not  sure  but  that  he  would  be  the 
central  figure  in  the  play.  He  is  wonderful.  Studied 
from  life  and  yet  a  summing  up  of  racial  traits  and  tribal 
ambitions.  He  is  much  more  vital  and  convincing  than 
Selden  who,  at  the  close,  is  a  pale  prig.  However  I  am 
not  writing  a  review — only  a  word  of  thanks  for  the  plea- 
sure the  book  has  given  me.  And  I  am  for  personal  rea- 
sons, curious  about  Mrs.  Wharton's  plans  for  a  drama. 
I  could  knock  the  novel  into  an  acting  play  in  3  months; 
though  I  fancy  she  will  make  her  own  version. 
With  best  wishes  and  thanks  for  the  trouble,  I  am. 

Sincerely,         r  tlt 

•^         James  Huneker. 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 
Dear  Ned  ^°^-  ^3rd,  1905 

Next  week  some  day  will  do.  I'm  free,  thus  far,  ex- 
cept Tuesday,  when  I  lunch  with  Mrs.  Craigie  ("John 
Oliver  Hobbes")  and  then  go  to  the  dentist.  Did  you 
see  Sunday's  Times?  The  interview  with  Mrs.  Craigie? 
She  has  "Iconoclasts"  with  her  to  club  people  into  sub- 
mission. It's  very  curious.  Did  you  save  that  Sep.  17 
clipping  of  The  Herald?  The  Nietzsche  story,  I  mean. 
If  so,  send  it  me  like  a  good  boy — when  you  have  leisure. 
Is  the  new  woman,  Rappold,  such  a  "find"  and  did 
"Heinie"  teach  her  to  act  I  God  help  her  histrionism, 
then.  Thanks  for  the  rehearsal  invitation.  But  I'm 
through  with  opera — I  couldn't  sit  through  Humperdinck 
as  much  as  I  admire  his  score — a  score  in  which  siege 
guns  slaughter  tom-tits.     If  you  wish  for  genuine  "Kin- 


48    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

der  szenen"  quality — Hauptmann's  "Hannele"  contains 
more  than  all  the  pseudo-Wagnerism  of  H's  pretty,  but 
quite  sophisticated  score.  How  Goldmark  must  have 
amused  and  interested  you.  Golden  shofars  blowing 
through  Eastern  mists.  Wonderful  coloring — almost  ra- 
cial at  times  eh !  t  t- 

i  am  as  hver 

Jim 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

The  review  in  The  Bookman  which  called  forth  this  letter  was  one 
of  "Visionaries"  which  expressed  a  great  admiration  for  Mr.  Hun- 
eker's  writings,  his  short  stories  in  particular,  but  suggested  a  lack  of 
the  Frenchman's  "skill  in  indicating  the  development  of  a  motive." 
"To  adapt  a  phrase  of  the  day,"  wrote  Mr.  Marsh,  "his  is  the 
*  static'  short  story." 

Tales  was  the  name  of  a  magazine  of  foreign  fiction,  later  entitled 
Trans-Atlantic  Tales,  in  which  Mr.  Marsh  was  interested. 

The  CarroIIton 

981  Madison  Ave. 
My  dear  Marsh:  Dec.  6,  1905 

I  saw  The  Bookman  last  night.  I  am  more  than  flat- 
tered. When  I  see  you  next  week — I'm  still  in  the 
clutches  of  dentist  and  tailor — I'll  tell  you  what  I  think 
of  your  kindness.  In  the  interim  let  me  thank  you  for 
the  first  sensitive,  sympathetic  and  fair  review.  You 
dealt  with  the  book,  not  as  if  its  themes  were  paramount, 
but  measuring  the  performance  by  the  themes.  The 
"static"  was  admirable.  And  you  were  quite  right  in 
leaving  the  question  an  open  one.  I  can  handle  running 
narrative  if  I  choose — and  I've  not  done  so.  However, 
it's  the  last  of  my  attempts  in  the  fantastic.  It  has  done 
me  good — the  publication,  I  mean  (and  also  the  inciden- 
tal— critical  clubbing).   And  I'll  swear  that  there  are  not 


TO  MME.   FRIDA  ASHFORTH  49 

6.  half  dozen  men  in  the  country  writing  criticism  today 
who  knew  what  I  was  after.  You  did.  That's  all  I  care 
about.  The  Tales  came  and  was  heartily  enjoyed. 
"Children"  is  something  Dickens — if  he  had  had  more 
art — would  have  been  proud  to  sign.  It  is  as  full  of 
Tolstoy  as  TchekofF — and  not  a  little  of  Dostoievsky 
(Have  you  read  "Les  Precoces"?)     We  must  meet  next 

Sincerely  As  Ever 

James  Huneker 


To  Mme  Frida  Ashforth 

TN  11  r         A  The  CarroUton  Dec.  21st,  1005 

Dear  Mrs.  Ashforth 

What  a  dear  you  always  are !    The  photograph  is  one 

Tve  longed  for  many  years  and  I  was  glad,  too,  to  get  an 

autographed  book  from  the  original  of  Lenbach's  lovely 

painting.     Accept  our  thanks  for  the  calendar  and  our 

hearty  wishes  for  a  pleasant  Christmas  and  many  of 

them.     I've  not  had  the  time  to  call  because  we  are  not 

settled  yet  and  in  Mrs.  Huneker's  family  there  is — as 

there  was  this  time  last  year — serious  sickness  though, 

thus  far,  luckily,  death  has  not  put  in  its  unwelcome 

appearance.    How  are  you !    I  am  venturing  to  send  my 

new  book — short,  hellish  stories — to  you.    It  has  been  a 

success.    I'm  crazy  with  work  in  my  hfe  of  Liszt.    I  wish 

it  were  finished.    Then  I  could  attend  to  my  duties  as  a 

social  man  and  see  my  friends  oftener. 

With  regards  as  ever 

Jim  Huneker 


50    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

Wednesday  Evening 
Dear  Ned 

I'm  glad  to  see  your  fist,  I  hope  ft  means  convales- 
cence. Don't  go  out  unless  you  are  better,  or  unless  you 
wish  to  make  a  widow  Ziegler!  Please  don't  say  any- 
thing about  The  Sun  Job  to  your  painter  friends — Loeb 
or  Henri  &c.  I  want  to  get  a  good  grip  with  my  toe- 
nails in  the  sandy  soil  of  American  art  before  I  sign  or 
splurge.  Mr.  L.  (the  Boss — Blessed  be  his  name,  Amen !) 
wishes  anonymity  for  the  present.  But,  my  son,  if  any  one 
asks  you  who  wrote  the  "Whistler"  last  Sunday  please 
say  that  I  did  not.  I'm  an  admirer  of  that  marvelous 
genius.  Besides  if  I  had  written  the  story  (a  very  clever 
ironical  one)  I  should  not  have  said  that  the  "Cremorne 
Garden-Nocturne"  was  the  subject  of  the  Ruskin- Whist- 
ler law-suit  for  it  was  the  Nocturne  noir  et  d'or — "Fall- 
ing Rockets  with  laburnum  sparks"  (owned  by  S.  P. 
Untermyer)  that  happened  to  be  the  particular  "pot  of 
paint"  flung  in  the  face  of  the  public.  I  go  carefully 
and  I  have  a  reference  library,  and  I  know  my  Whistler 
better.  Week  after  next,  luncheon.  I've  worked  off  my 
Academy  story — such  rotten  painting.  Am  at  work  on 
an   engraving   &   mezzotint   study.     Regards   to   Mrs. 

2'^Sl«^-  As  Ever  , 

JIM 


1906 

To  H,  E.  Krebbiel 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Harry  ^^^'  ^^"^  ^9o6 

It  is  good  of  you  each  year  to  recall  a  missing  sheep  of 
your  flock  and  I  would  only  be  too  glad  to  accept  your 
invitation  with  Mrs.  Huneker  but  for  two  things;  we  go 
to  Philadelphia  late  Saturday  evening  or  early  Sunday 
so  as  to  be  there  by  Monday.  It  is  a  case  of  business; 
signatures  &c  in  a  small  real  estate  transaction.  And 
Mrs.  Huneker  is  in  mourning  and  can  go  nowhere.  She 
has  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  twice  in  succession  her  2 
sisters.  The  last  was  a  shock  for  she  died  under  pecu- 
liarly racking  circumstances  (no  use  to  tell  you  and  har- 
row your  memory).  Besides  we  have  an  invalid  dear  to 
us  in  Philadelphia — my  brother's  wife  recovering  from  a 
severe  illness.  Altogether  your  word  reached  us  at  the 
most  unpropitious  time.  Tell  Mrs.  Krehbiel,  won't  you, 
how  the  matter  stands.  I  should  have  gone  anyhow  for 
I  am  out  and  about  but  Monday  forbids.  I  can't  get 
over  in  time  for  a  ghastly  early  hour  at  a  lawyer's  office. 
So  it  is.  Now — you  owed  me  a  letter  for  I  wrote  you 
from  Rome.  I've  been  to  no  music  this  season,  nor  have 
I  gone  junketing  to  the  house  of  friends.  I've  been 
working,  but  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  call  on  you 
after  the  Opera  season  was  over  to  drag  you  forth  to 
luncheon,  there  to  pester  your  ears  with  11,000  stories; 
also  to  ask  you  whether,  setting  aside  the  Liszt-Goethe 
story  in  "Music  and  Manners"  you  had  contributed  to 
the  Liszt  literature — far  more  swollen  than  it  deserves 
to  be! 

51 


52    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I'm  reading  I  confess  with  shame  for  the  first  time  the 
"Souvenirs"  of  Daniel  Stern  (Countess  d'AgouIt)  and 
find  them  to  my  surprise  excellent  diversion.  A  brilliant 
woman  with  a  clever  pen !  Dam  sight  better  reading 
(especially  her  novel  "Nelida")  than  the  lucubrations, 
dreary  and  mystic,  of  the  old  lady  Countess  Sayn  Witt- 
genstein. I  know  now  where  the  vicious  bastard  prose 
of  Liszt  came  from.  D'AgouIt  is  a  model  of  clarity,  pre- 
cision and  propriety  in  her  writing.  But  stop  I — you 
must  not  be  assailed  at  dawn  with  turgid  reminiscences. 
Enfin.  I'm  sorry  I  can't  be  with  you  Sunday.  Yet  will 
I  be  with  you  one  day  before  the  season  ends.  Our  re- 
gards to  Mrs.  Krehbiel  and  Miss  Krehbiel — not  forget- 
ting Jupiter  Tonans.  .    P 


Jim 


To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 


The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Karl:  ^"^  '3rd,  .906 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  when  I  saw  you  the  other  day  that 
I  had  just  received  a  long  and  very  interesting  letter 
from  Fannie  Bloomfield  Zeisler,*  who  as  you  may  not 
know,  was  the  first  friend  I  had  in  America  after  my 
return  25  years  ago  from  Paris.  She  is  quite  recovered 
from  her  nervous  trouble.  I  expect  to  meet  them — her 
husband  and  children — at  Marienbad  in  August  (if  we 
go).  I  fancied  Mrs.  Rosebault  would  be  glad  to  hear 
that  Fannie  is  herself  again.  To  you  I  confide  the  pain- 
ful tidings  that  at  the  time  she  was  attacked  by  her 
neurasthenia  she  had  been  reading  my  "Visionaries"!! 
I  have  asked  Scribner's  to  give  it  a  new  ad,  a  la  Castoria. 
"Lunatics  cry  for  it,  nervous  folk  yearn  for  it."     Horri- 

*  Well  known  as  a  pianist  throughout  this  country  and  Europe  since  the  early 
eighties. 


TO  DR.   EDWARD  J.  NOLAN  53 

ble  warning  isn't  it !  Sigmund  Zeisler  told  me  this  pleas- 
ant, blood  curdling  news.  Yet  you  need  not  fear.  You 
look  strong  physically  and  your  mentahty  I  vouch  for. 
Do  read  "The  Third  Kingdom"  in  the  volume.  There 
is  nothing  weird  about  it,  only  the  true  story  of  the 
Meschiach!    Also  "The  Iron  Fan." 

Cordially,         j^^ 

■To  Dr.  Edward  J.  Nolan 

Dr.  Edward  J.  Nolan  was  one  of  the  friends  of  Mr.  Huneker's 
youth  in  Philadelphia  with  whom  he  kept  in  close  touch  throughout 
his  Hfe. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Ned:  _       _  May  29th,  .906 

With  moans  of  joy  indicating  our  need  of  escaping 
from  your  horrid.  Jubilant  city,  Mrs.  Huneker,  [Frederick 
James]  Gregg  and  myself  fled  Philadelphia  last  Sunday 
night.  It  had  been  too  much.  We  are  not  accustomed  to 
such  revelry  over  here.  So  I  write  asking  pardon  for  my 
non-appearance  yesterday.  Ah!  but  it  was  good  to  sit 
in  the  window  of  my  loth  story  studio  and  watch  the 
brave  upright  rain  flooding  Gotham  and  thanking  Jupiter 
Pluvius  that  I  had  escaped  from  a  den  of  roysterers. 
Either  one  of  two  things:  either  you  go  out  once  in  lo 
years  or  you  are  out  every  night.  Nothing  else  can  ac- 
count for  your  heflish  freshness  and  bland  wickedness. 
How  do  you  do  it  Edward?  I'm  not  in  the  ring.  My 
nerve  hath  fled.  And  Gregg  who  is  the  youngest  of  the 
three  threw  up  his  hands  in  wonderment.  You  pro- 
foundly impressed  him.  I  told  him  that  20  years  ago  you 
were  merely  promising;  but  in  20  years  you  might  be  ex- 


54    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

pected  to  come  to  a  perfect  flowering.     Anyhow  God 

bless  you — ft  did  me  a  power  of  good  to  see  the  man  who 

built  me  up  in  my  callow  youth,  so  brilliant  in  ideation, 

so  fecund  in  wit.    As  Gregg  said,  after  many  inarticulate 

motions  of  his  mouth,  "  It  must  be  the  Irish." 

"The  Irish'*   I  solemnly  replied.     And  we  drank  to 

your  health  on  upper  Sixth  Avenue.      . 

As  ever.        t 
Jim 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

Seabrfght,  New  Jersey 

LiEBER  Bill-  ™^^  •'"'^  ^'  """^ 

We  have  just  returned  from  W.  W.  (Woeful  Waste)  on 
the  9.51.  We  went  over  to  see  you  on  the  8.42.  We 
found  a  dark  station,  fireflies,  gloom,  charming  air  and 
two  cottages — at  the  end  of  a  mile  walk  in  the  dark, 
sticking  to  a  board  walk  and  a  paved  way.  We  got 
down  so  late  this  afternoon  that  we  thought  we  would 
give  you  a  surprise — but  we  had  the  surprise;  even  an  ad- 
venture !  Not  a  soul  to  direct  us.  I  whistled  "Walkiire" 
in  front  of  a  house;  but  the  man  shut  the  blinds !  A 
Wagnerhasser !  Can  we  see  you  tomorrow — Saturday 
night?  or  can  we  see  you  Sunday  night?  We  go  to  Long 
Branch  all  day  Saturday.  Don't  bother  coming  over  for 
we  shall  not  be  here;  but  wire  in  the  morning,  any  time 
— or  send  a  postcard  here. 

Gruss  from  both 

HuNEKER. 


TO  RICHARD  ALDRICH  33 


To  Richard  Aldricb 

Franconia,  N.  H. 

Dear  Dick  ^^s-  ^^'  ^9o6 

Thanks  for  your  prompt  letter.  I've  been  to  Bar  Har- 
bor. 48  hours  satisfied  me — a  loathesome  town  without 
a  yacht.  But  the  harbor — glorious!  What  I  asked 
E.  D.  and  what  I  now  wish  to  learn  from  you  is  this.  I 
promised  George  Moore  that  I  wouldn't  write  about  his 
Memoirs  until  the  Appletons  had  put  forth  their  Ameri- 
can edition.  Won't  you  please  fmd  out  for  me  that  date; 
also  send  me  a  copy  of  the  American  edition  as  the  Ap- 
pletons may  have  deleted,  diluted  and  other^vise  rinsed 
clean  the  awful  things  in  the  Heinemann  London  edition. 
I'll  write  the  review  but  I'll  hold  it  until  I  hear  from 
you;  then  you  can,  if  you  are  still  in  office,  jam  the  story 
in  and  have  a  mild  "beat"  on  the  other  newspapers. 
(Damned  important  isn't  it??)  I  couldn't  see  H.  E.  K. 
[Henry  E.  Krehbiel].  I  had  the  hay-fever  horribly  at 
Bar  Harbor  and  my  Missus  was  a  wreck  from  the  rapid 
jumps — New  York  to  Bar  Harbor;  Newport  to  New 
York;  through  the  Berkshires  to  Coney  Island.  Es  war 
zu  viel.  I'll  write  the  old  man  all  about  it  when  I  catch 
my  breath  up  here.  I've  had  to  read  proof  since  I  ar- 
rived, of  my  study  of  Anatole  France  in  The  North 
American  Review;  also  for  the  preface  to  the  Shaw  dra- 
matic criticisms  (2  vols),  and  for  numerous  magazine 
articles.  I'm  making  money — but  hell!  Where's  the 
pleasure?  Richard,  I  solemnly  promise  you  an  article, 
a  careful  study  of  modern  French  music — up  to  date; 
every  one  in — for  your  review.  But  I  must  have  a  little 
leisure;  and  you  people  must  pay  me  my  price.  Scrib- 
ners  gave  me  S200  for  my  Ibsen  study  in  Scribner's  for 
September — 6000  words.     So  Novellos  can  afford  at  least 


^6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

$50 — and  I'll  not  put  any  limit  on  the  words.  *  Til  write 
the  story  "for  what  it's  worth."  As  for  The  Times  re- 
view— that  work  I  do  for  glory;  for  The  Herald  I'm  ex- 
acting a  stern,  large  toll — and  they  are  paying  it !  Two 
months  hard  travel  among  muckers  and  idiots  and  eleven 
articles — the  last  appears  Sep.  9th — should  be  compen- 
sated grandly,  as  Mr.  Dooley  would  say.  How  are  you 
old  man !  and  did  you  ever  get  that  copy  of  "Visionaries'* 

Scribners  were  told  to  send  you?         .     j- 

•^  As  Ever  , 

Jim 

To  E,  E,  Ziegler 
Dear  Ned  Dec.  26/1906 

The  tickets  were  thankfully  received.  We'll  use  them, 
we,  ourselves.  I  read  your  notice  in  company  with  all 
the  others.  The  Post  was  perfect.  The  Press*  was  a 
trifle  lagging  behind,  but  at  times,  I  was  almost  certain 
ft  would  overtake  Finck.  Glorious!  Hey?  I  was  very 
glad  to  see  Phil  above  all  to  see  Irene  Hale.  She  is  a 
dear,  Dolly  and  Phil  spoke  most  sympathetically  of  you. 

Yes,  papa  made  me  proud  of  bim.  It  was  a  noble 
study,  over-tinged  by  the  ethical  note — as  a  matter  of 
fact  Salome  could  sing  to  an  empty  tomato  can  with  the 
same  ecstasy!  It's  the  music  that  speaks  not  that 
wretched  mediocrity  Wilde. 

I  swear  our  friends  have  more  imagination  than  I. 
They  read  miracles  of  filth  into  the  score.  TrufHe  hunt- 
ers all;  searchers  after  the  diseased  carrion.  I  took  the 
music  as  it  came.  But ! — oh  Edward — But — !  I  left  the 
music  in  The  Sun  in  1904 — too  much  Strauss  for  them. 
But!!  Don't  rub  it  in — We  win  and  with  melodrama 
that  does  not  contain  half  of  the  real  Strauss — the  Strauss 

•  The  New  York  Press,  a  daily  newspaper  no  longer  published. 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  57 

of  "Also"  and  "Don  Quixote"  and  "Heldenleben."  A 
little  bit  of  tinsel — one  strong  situation — and  the  enemy- 
capitulated.  We  must  take  a  lone  drink  on  it  soon.  I'm 
all  a-grin.    Will  you  be  down  Saturday? 

I  should  like  to  thank  you  for  the  seats  personally. 
Also — don't  wince;  it's  coming  and  you  know  it  is — ^to 
ask  you  if  out  of  the  3  forthcoming  performances  of 
"Salome"  I  can't  have  one — either  of  the  two  evenings: 
doubtless  you  will  have  to  cover  the  second  performance: 
but  how  about  Tuesday  Feb.  5th?  If  you  can — if  you 
can't  why  I'll  tackle  the  abused  Weil.*  But  see  that 
work  once  more  I  must  and  will.  So  be  prepared  I  It's 
mean  to  thank  a  man  with  one  hand  and  hold  another 

— but  Strauss,  Ned !  a    t? 

'  As  Ever  t 

Jim 

♦  Otto  Weil  of  the  staff  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  Company. 


1907 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 
This  and  other  letters  to  Mr.  E,  P.  Mitchell,  the  veteran  editor 
of  The  New  York  Sun,  now  The  Herald,  relate  to  articles  and  editorials 
by  Mr.  Huneker  published  in  The  Sun  in  1907  and  1908. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  Jan.  7,  1907 

Don't  be  alarmed  by  the  caption  of  this  proposed  edi- 
torial; the  story  is  neither  an  apologia,  nor  yet  is  it  a 
polemic.  Nietzsche  is  in  the  air;  he  is  quoted  by  the 
reporter,  by  the  sporting  editor.  He  has  become  an 
uncanny  nightmare  in  the  pubhc  mind.  As  the  first 
Nietzschian  to  write  of  him  in  this  country  (which  means 
that  I  was  but  am  not  now)  I  have  attempted  in  plain 
language  without  metaphysical  quiddities  to  tell  a  few 
facts  about  him  and  his  ideas.  Naturally  it  is  all  terri- 
bly foreshortened — only  about  a  column.  But  the  main 
argument,  that  he  was  not  a  man  of  barbarous  instincts, 
instead  a  poetic,  even  religious  temperament,  I  hope  I 
have  maintained.     If  it  meets  with  your  approval  I  shall 

be  gratified.  <^.         t 

bmcerely  t  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  ^P"^  ^^^'  ^907 

The  Munich  booklet  was  very  interesting;  but  more 
welcome  was  your  letter  which  I  truly  appreciate.  As 
to  Piranesi.     Little  has  been  written  of  him.    His  memoirs 

58 


TO  EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  59 

were  destroyed  before  they  were  published — what  a  loss  I 
My  father  collected  many  of  his  large  plates  and  also 
owned  the  inimitable  "Carceri"  (16  plates)  feverish 
visions  that  so  affected  me  as  a  youth  that  I  found  my- 
self writing  in  my  "Chopin;  the  man  and  his  Music" 
(1900)  this  sentence;  (I  am  speaking  of  Chopin's  first 
Etude).  "The  irregular,  black,  ascending  and  descend- 
ing staircases  of  notes  strike  the  neophyte  with  terror. 
Like  Piranesi*s  marvellous  aerial  architectural  dreams, 
these  dizzy  acclivities  and  descents  of  Chopin  exercise 
a  charm,  hypnotic  if  you  will,  for  eye  as  well  as  ear." 
I  enclose  a  little  study  by  Russell  Sturgis  which  you 
very  likely  have  seen.  If  not  keep  ft — it  is  "on  tap"  at 
Keppels.  There  is  one  plate  from  the  "Carceri"  in 
Bryan's  Dictionary  on  "Piranesi."  I  think  your  Brob- 
dignagian  must  be  applied  to  the  Angelo  bridge.  P.  was 
accused  during  his  life  time  of  wilfully  or  ignorantly  ex- 
aggerating his  scales,  and  in  one  instance,  he  actually 
botched  a  big  building  upon  which  he  was  employed  as 
an  architect.  I  only  wish  I  had  the  time  to  study  all 
the  plates.  The  "Carceri"  appeal  to  me — they  are  as 
modern  romantic  as  if  devised  by  Poe  or  Baudelaire. 
As  to  the  Martin — didn't  you  think  when  it  achieved 
type  that  it  read  too  black;  I  might  have  mingled  white 
to  advantage.  I  fear  there  is  no  genius  in  the  procedure, 
only  a  key  sense,  a  memory  of  my  strenuous  musical 
days.  I  Hke  unity  of  tone  and  color.  Above  all  I  be- 
lieve in  onomatopoeia — delightful  word,  almost  as  lov- 
able as  Mespotamia !         C-  T 

m    re  y      j^^^^gs  Huneker 


6o      LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Edwin  W,  Morse 

The  letter  referred  to  was  from  a  publisher  requesting  the  oppor- 
tunity to  bring  out  a  collection  of  Mr.  Huneker's  writings.  At  this 
time  he  wrote  an  article  on  art  each  week  for  The  New  York  Sunday 
Sun.  The  "Httle  book"  referred  to,  composed  largely  of  these 
articles,  was  published  under  the  title  "Promenades  of  an  Impres- 
sionist." 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Morse  April  lo,  1907 

After  reading  please  return  enclosed  to  me.  I  do  not 
send  you  such  letters  to  show  you  how  my  life  is  made 
miserable  by  pubhshers,  but  merely  to  ask  you  to  write 
me  that  you  prefer  I  do  not  publish  elsewhere.  And  for 
fear  you  may  think  that  I  am  setting  a  dainty  trap  for 
S.  S.  a  simple,  "No"  will  answer  my  question.  I  do  not 
propose  showing  your  letter  or  anything  of  that  sort, 
but  I  do  wish  to  say  definitely,  officially — if  you  will — 
that  I  cannot  publish  elsewhere,  only  with  your  house. 
That  won't  commit  you,  and  it  lets  me  out  of  a  lot  of 
importuning  by  word  of  mouth  and  by  letter-writing. 
Not  only  is  the  unfinished  Liszt  for  you,  but  also  my  new 
book  on  Individualism,  the  apple  of  my  eye,  it  is  to  be, 
upon  which  I'm  laying  on  my  best  licks.  A  book  about 
pictures  is  in  the  remote  future;  though  I  may  confess 
to  you  that  I  have  refused  since  Jan.  ist  at  least  10  offers 
from  magazines  to  write  on  art  subjects;  two  of  said 
offers  being  respectively  The  International  Studio  and 
The  Century.  I  also  refused  to  write  in  the  Metropohtan 
Museum  Bulletin  on  the  Vanderbilt  loans — an  honor 
difficult  to  refuse,  because  none  but  experts  are  ever  in- 
vited. I  did  all  this  my  dear  Mr.  Morse,  not  only  be- 
cause The  Sun  has  the  sole  right  to  my  work  in  this  field, 
but  because  I  fear  for  so  many  irons  in  the  fire.    Another 


TO  EDWARD  C.  MARSH  6i 

thing:  that  little  book  Promenades  when  it  is  published 
several  seasons  hence  will  have  my  picture  stuff  in  it. 
(Sun.)  I'm  glad  you  asked  me  to  hold  it  back.  It  can 
follow  the  Liszt  and  the  book  about  French  Individual- 
ists. Did  you  see  the  "John  Martin"  story  in  last 
Sunday's  Sun?  It  has  made  no  end  of  a  hit  and  the 
5th  Avenue  dealers  are  planning  a  Martin  mezzotint 
revival.  Just  as  my  MonticeUi  article  sent  up  the  price 
of  Monticellis  50  per  cent — (unluckily  for  me  I  was  after 
one).  Excuse  the  length  and  the  obviousness  of  certain 
statements;  but  answer  me  all  the  same. 

As  Ever 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Marsh:  April  30,  1907 

I  hope  it  is  0.  K.  for  tomorrow — Saturday — rain  or 
shine.  Suppose  you  meet  me  at  i  .-30  at  the  S.W.  corner 
29th  &  Madison  Ave.,  Hotel  Seville,  downstairs  in  the 
Cafe,  a  snug,  homelike  place  I've  been  patronizing  for  2 
years,  with  a  good  chef  and  nice  people.  The  reason  I 
ask  this  is,  if  I  go  to  your  office  we  may  not  make  up  our 
mind  at  once — and  time  is  capital;  which  means  I  want 
to  see  as  much  of  you  as  your  time  will  permit.  The 
Seville  has  drawn  the  magazine  editors — always  good 
gobblers — and  other  persons  of  taste ! ! !  So  do  come. 
I'll  go  earlier  and  secure  a  table.  Don't  bother  answer- 
ing this.     I'll  expect  you.       j^^  ^^^^ 

James  Huneker 


62      LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  May  3rd,  1907 

Naturally  I'm  glad  you  liked  the  Rodin  story;  for  me 
it  was  too  long — that  is  for  a  daily  newspaper.  But  it 
was  written  for  The  Sun  and  I  was  happy  to  see  it  in  The 
Sun.  As  for  its  being  read — why  I  get  50  letters  to  5 
after  a  story  in  The  Sun,  as  compared  with  a  magazine. 
So  I'm  in  your  debt;  to  have  printed  the  little  study 
without  cuts  was  very  flattering.  Rhetorically  speaking 
the  eff'ect  I  sought  of  marble  and  whiteness  did  not 
come  off*.  All  the  better,  as  there  was  more  matter  and 
less  manner.  I  have  a  stunning  idea  for  an  editorial 
which  I'll  submit  in  a  few  weeks.  I'm  working  on  a  long 
Stendhal  essay  for  Scribners.  The  amount  of  material 
I've  collected  in  20  years  on  this  amusing  and  amazing 
Beyle  is  enormous.  My  contributions  to  The  Sun  this 
past  week  began  April  27  (Sat.)  "Museum  &  Lenox  Li- 
brary," April  28,  "Rodin"  and  May  2nd  "Black  and 
White";  in  all  5  cols,  and  6  inches.  (Hunekerian  mea- 
sure !)  I  hope  my  dear  Mr.  Mitchell,  you  won't  run  off" 
to  Europe  without  letting  me  know.  I  have  a  faint  hope 
that  you  will  be  able  to  give  me  one  hour  some  time  up 
here,  to  look  at  the  Martins  etc.  an  hour  after  luncheon 
when  the  light  is  strong.  c:-         y 

James  Huneker 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Frida  May  9,  1907 

Your  letter  was  welcome  though  it  put  me  into  bad 
humor.     It  has  not  been  neglect  of  my  old  friend  that 


TO  EDWARD  C.   MARSH  63 

has  kept  me  silent — and  Vm  not  the  sort  of  man  to  for- 
get our  old  ties  of  friendship.  Fve  had  sickness  here  all 
the  Spring.  Mrs.  H.  has  not  been  well  a  day  and  I'm 
working  18  hours  out  of  the  24  to  keep  my  little  bark 
afloat.  I  had  to  go  back  to  The  Sun  last  Dec.  so  as  to 
make  a  living.  Books  and  magazines  are  well  enough 
but  a  daily  newspaper  keeps  me  going.  "Prosperity"! 
I  don't  call  anyone  "prosperous"  who  works  like  a  dog 
as  I  do — seeing  no  one,  going  nowheres,  ink  and  paper 
before  him  every  night,  no  pleasure,  no  companionship. 
I  was  a  jolly  chap  10  years  ago;  I'm  an  old  crank  today. 
I'm  writing  3  books  all  at  once.  And  I'm  suffering  from 
an  ulcerated  tooth,  hence  my  bad  temper.  I  hope  my 
dear  Frida  you  will  have  a  nice  summer — I  only  wish  I 
could  get  away — impossible!  The  Liszt  book  stares  at 
me  reproachfully,  half  finished.  I  write  about  pictures 
and  do  editorial  work  in  Sun;  that  gives  me  my  nights 
free — free  to  toil.  It's  a  hard  world.  You  ought  to 
know.     And  you  are  braver  than  I.     Good  bye  from 

both.     Write  a  line  .     t- 

As  Lver  , 

JIM 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

Mr.  Marsh  had  just  published  an  article  in  The  Forum  called 
"James  Huneker:  Individualist,"  which  was  based  upon  all  of  Mr. 
Huneker's  writings  that  had  appeared  up  to  that  time. 

The  CarroIIton 

rN  -Mr  June  21,  1007 

Dear  Marsh: 

You  are  certainly  a  most  reticent,  not  to  say  modest 

man.     Why  didn't  you  tell  me  when  we  lunched  together 

last  week  about  that  Forum  article!    You  must  have 

thought  me  rude  or  ungrateful;  yet  I  never  saw  the  story 


64    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

until  Saturday  last  when  a  clipping  from  the  Chicago  E. 
Post  came  with  all  the  plumes  taken  out.  Of  course,  I 
had  to  get  that  first.  When  I  read  the  original  I  was 
quite  flabbergasted.  As  our  French  friends  put  it: — ^so 
much  noise  over  an  omelette.  Rather,  let  us  say,  an 
unimportant  critic.  I'm  sure  I'm  deeply  grateful  to  you 
and  confess,  apart  from  my  personal  interest,  that  I 
enjoyed  the  brilliant  way  you  analyzed  the  books  and 
their  author.  Nor  can  I  say  that  I  disagree  with  your 
judgments.  They  are  sound.  In  a  word  a  critique  that 
will  do  the  subject  thereof  much  good.  It's  all  well 
enough  to  talk  of  temperamental  bias,  but  a  critic  must 
observe  a  few  of  the  rules  of  the  game,  or  else  not  play 
fair.  Of  course  you  saw  through  the  elbow  grease- 
versatility  paragraph.  All  the  work  in  the  world  won't 
produce  versatility — and  I'm  sorry  to  add  that  versatility 
too  often  spells  superficiality.  But  I'm  not  going  into 
detail.     The  study  was  bully.     I  can't  say  any  more. 

With  regards, 

James  Huneker 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroIIton 

LieberKarl:  July  4th,  .907 

I  owe  you  an  apology  for  not  writing  before,  but  we 
have  just  emerged  from — to  us — a  shocking  experience. 
Six  weeks  ago  Mrs.  Huneker,  who  has  been  complaining 
all  winter  (she  was  sick  the  night  you  honored  us)  fell 
mortally  ill.  After  a  week  she  was  forced  to  go  to  the 
Hahnemann  Hospital  there  to  submit  to  a  terrible  opera- 
tion. What  women  endure  I  She  has  lost  30  pounds  and 
is  white  as  this  paper,  but  is  fairly  on  the  road  to  recov- 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  6$ 

ery.  Four  weeks  in  a  hospital — it  gives  one  the  horrors 
to  think  of  it,  and  surgeon's  steel  and  operating  tables. 
I  was  nearly  crazy.  I  could  do  no  work.  Now  I  must 
work  to  pay  bills.  We  have  had  our  Paris — up  on  Park 
Avenue!  No  Europe  this  year.  Mrs.  Huneker  can't 
travel  for  six  months;  indeed,  she  can't  walk.  But  I 
have  her  home.  How  are  you?  And  how  is  Mrs.  Rose- 
bault?  Write  a  fellow  what  you  are  seeing  in  Europe. 
Make  my  poor  old  Pilsner-thirsty  mouth  water !  I'm  up 
to  my  eyes  in  work.  This  month  (July)  I  am  in  four 
magazines — Century,  Smart  Set  and  Bookman — also 
N.  A.  [North  American]  Review.  I've  sold  Scribners, 
N.  A.  Review,  and  the  Atlantic  Monthly  three  stories; 
"Huysmans,"  "Stendhal"  &  " Barres "—studies.  My 
Sun  work  has  been  neglected.  I  hadn't  the  heart  or  the 
hand  to  look  at  or  describe  pictures.  I  saw  that  one  pic- 
ture— a  white  faced  woman  on  a  hospital  bed.  I'm 
through  with  horrors  in  art.  Life  is  too  terrible.  But 
she  is  home  again  Charles,  and  I'm  happy. 

Regards  to  both  .     t- 

^  As  Ever  , 

Jim 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

July  29,  1907 
Dear  Carl:  The  CarroIIton 

Your  sympathetic  and  interesting  letter  reached  us 
this  morning.  It  found  Mrs.  Huneker  out  of  her  con- 
valescence and  loudly  bewailing  the  fact  that  the  doctor 
has  forbidden  her  Turkish  baths  until  the  Autumn.  Her 
recovery  was  rapid;  in  fact,  the  case  was  "classic"  as  the 
medical  phrase  goes.  We  can't  go  abroad — for  various 
reasons.  A  surgeon's  bill  of  Si 000  is  one;  the  other  is 
because  of  Mrs.  Huneker's  inability  to  endure  travel  and 


66    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

its  attendant  trunk  packing  (when  /  pack  the  trunks 
hell  hath  no  further  horrors — the  scorned  husband  dodges 
the  whisk-broom).  Therefore — &c,  darum  !  We  are  here 
and  stay  until  we  go  to  the  seashore.  In  the  fall,  Canada 
for  my  hay  fever.  Nothing  new.  All  quiet  &.  O.  K.  at 
The  Sun  office.  I  have  heard  at  least  57  varieties  of  ex- 
planations why  you  went  away,  the  predominating  one 
being  that  you  are  rich  enough  to  retire.  Do  you  wish  a 
better  reason? 

Yes,  I  know  Pierrefonds  very  well.  Your  letter  re- 
called pleasant  days  there  at  Enghien,  Montmorency, 
Chantilly,  (with  its  picture  gallery)  Compiegne  &c.  In 
1880  I  lived  for  9  months  at  Villiers-Ie-Bel  on  the  Chemin 
de  Per  du  Nord,  near  Ecouen  &c.  So  I  got  about  the 
country.  Yes,  I  think  you  are  right:  Amboise  is  beauti- 
ful but  Pierrefonds  more  stately.  Don't  miss  Chartres 
Cathedral  (described  in  Huysmans'  "La  Cathedrale"). 
It  is  near  Paris  and  is  the  Gothic  in  its  finest  flowering 
(Rouen  Cathedral  alone  excepted).  If  you  ever  go  to 
Rouen — a  few  hours  from  Paris — take  the  little  steamer 
at  the  Quai  Boi'eldieu  (near  the  bridge  and  statue  of  that 
name — composer  of  "La  Dame  Blanche" — Oh!  echo  of 
my  spotless  childhood  for  4  hands  piano  and  half  a  pedal) 
and  go  down  the  Seine  to  Croisset  {}4  hour)  where  the 
little  atelier  of  Gustave  Flaubert  is  still  shown;  the  room 
where  he  composed  "Madame  Bovary." 

Huysmans,  by  the  way,  died  May  12.  I  have  a  study 
in  the  North  American  Review  for  this  week.  I  wish 
you  would  see  the  July  Century;  my  story  "The  Magic 
Lantern"  may  please  you  as  the  scene  opens  in  Paris. 
Tve  been  lucky  of  late,  as  many  as  4  stories  in  one 
month's  magazines.  This  August  I  can  count  3 — 
"Maurice  Barres"  in  August  Atlantic,  the  "Huysmans" 


TO   EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  67 

in  N.  American  and  an  awful  essay  on  American  girls  in 
Everybody's  which  latter  I  wrote  under  pressure  (6  hours 
was  given  me — also  a  big  cheque)  for  Ridgeway,  on  the 
beauty  contest  in  The  World  and  Chicago  Herald.  I  had 
to  do  it.  It  has  been  voted  a  success — and  it's  the  sharp- 
est arraignment  of  our  gum-chewing,  silly  wiggle-wagging, 
Yankee  speaking  girls  that  was  ever  written  (and  yet  it's 
damnably  polite).  How  is  Mrs.  Rosebault  enjoying  the 
climate?  You  won't  stand  Paris  in  Dec.  or  January. 
Nice  or  San  Remo  for  yours ! 

As  Ever  with  regards, 

Jim 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 
_^  - ,       , ,  Aug.  ist,  1907 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell 

I  am  glad  to  know  about  the  Piranesis  and  Blakes.  I 
haven't  been  down  among  the  picture  people  for  weeks. 
Thank  you  for  letting  me  know.  I  fear  I  have  appeared 
perfunctory  in  my  work,  but,  apart  from  Mrs.  Huneker's 
illness — now  happily  a  fast  disappearing  black  cloud  in 
our  wake — I  labored  under  the  delusion  that  my  copy 
was  not  of  much  value  after  June  ist,  an  idea  that  prob- 
ably arose  from  my  connection  with  The  Sun  as  music 
and  dramatic  critic  when  the  season  ends  at  a  given 
point.  I  am  only  too  glad  that  I  can  turn  in  material  all 
the  year  round — of  course,  I  won't — as  I  always  stay  in 
the  city  late,  going  to  Europe  when  my  hay  fever  period 
sets  in;  circa  Aug.  25.  I  am  at  work  now  on  a  careful 
little  study  of  Joris  Karl  Huysmans  as  art  critic  and  for 
The  Sun  some  Sunday.  Next  week  I'll  do  a  Piranesi 
story,  and  gladly.  I  want  to  see  you  Mr.  Mitchell,  be- 
fore you  go  away.     I  am  so  sorry  that  my  scheme  to  get 


68    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

you  up  here  failed;  but  the  fates  were  against  it.  Per- 
haps in  the  late  Autumn  you  may  see  your  way  to  get  up 
here  (though  I  think  I'll  sell  my  "Thomas  Sully"  before 
then).  May  I  ask  you,  if  you  have  the  time  and  inclina- 
tion to  look  at  a  study  of  Maurice  Barres  I  have  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  for  August.  His  individualism  is  not 
so  repellent  as  Stirner's.  Mrs.  Huneker  asks  me  to 
thank  you  for  your  kind  wishes.     She  is  progressing  with 

seven  league  boots.         c>-         t 

bmcerely         j  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

N.  Y.  City 
Dear  Charles:  ^"S-  28,  1907 

I  should  say  Paul  de  Kock  is  your  author  best  suited 
to  describe  the  charming  collection  of  Triangles  you 
wrote  about  in  today's  letter.  Don't  think  I'm  a  glut- 
ton in  letter  writing.  I  write  in  answer  to  yours  because 
we  go  away  tomorrow — and  to  Cape  May!  (Oh  clam 
shells,  soft  shell  crabs,  niggers,  razors,  snobs,  gloom, 
sand  and  oh  hell !)  But  Mrs.  Huneker  can't  travel  and 
she  must  go  away.  Cape  May  is  near  and  I've  engaged 
a  little  suite  of  3  rooms — for  her  sister  who  accompanies 
us — that  will  keep  us  to  ourselves  for  3  weeks.  Besides 
my  hay  fever,  better  cured  in  the  mountains,  is  at  hand. 
I  must,  perforce,  content  myself  with  sea-bathing  and 
New  Jersey  beer.     Alas  ! 

News  is  scarce.  Today  for  the  first  time  in  many 
months  I  went  to  the  Sun  office.  I  saw,  imprimis,  Quinn 
(with  his  grin).  He  asked  after  you.  Then  Mr.  Lord  * 
came  in.  He  has  been  in  Maine  fishing.  I  never 
saw  him  look  so  stalwart — in  such  health.     I  saw  Mr. 

*  Chester  S.  Lord,  formerly  managing  editor  of  The  Sun. 


TO  CHARLES  J.  ROSEBAULT  69 


W.  M.  L.  [Wm.  M.  LafFan]  and  had  a  very  pleasant  in- 
terview.    I'll  tell  you  some  day  the  nice  things  he  said 
to  me.     Mr.  Mitchell,  as  usual,  was  lively  and  sympa- 
thetic.   Henderson,*  Just  back  from  Italy,  Vienna,  Ber- 
lin, Paris,  is  very  chipper.     He  saw  a  lot  in  a  few  months. 
Gregg  begs  to  be  remembered  by  Mrs.  Rosebault  as  well 
as  C.  R.    McCIoy  f  is  looking  fit  as  a  fiddle — indeed,  the 
whole  establishment  is  buzzing  with  prosperity.     Vance 
Thompson  was  over  for  ten  days.     He  returns  to  Paris 
to-day.     He  tells  me  he  saw  you  for  a  moment  in  Paris. 
He  has  a  good  Hague-Peace  Conference  story  in  Every- 
body's for  Sept.    My  American  Girl  story  in  July  Every- 
body's made  a  hit.    From  Romeike  I  got  a  100  slips;  and 
only  a  few  for  a  careful  study  of  Maurice  Barres  in 
the  August  Atlantic  Monthly.    Moral:  Write  silly  stuff 
about  silly  fluffy  ruffles  and  you  can  go  to  Europe  yearly. 
Enclosed  is  the  proof.     Chuck  them  to  the  pigs  when 
you  read  them.     I  envy  you  both — Mrs.  Rosebault  with 
her  music,  you  with  your  leisure  for  quiet  work  and 
abundant  observation.     Why  not  make  a  tart  little  etch- 
ing in  prose  of  the  situation  as  you  set  it  forth  for  my 
delectation?     Only  bring  your  skeins  together;  make  the 
noble  lord  fall  in  love  with  the  "proprietoress"  and  so 
let  loose  the  devils  of  Jealousy  in  the  bosom  of  the  "man- 
ageress" and  the  husband  of  the  "proprietoress."     As  it 
seems  to  be  a  four  voice  fugue  why  not  develop  it  and 
bring  it  to  a  harmonious  coda  ? 

Mrs.  Huneker  asks  to  be  remembered.  Don't  forget 
me.  We  stay  at  the  Windsor  until  Sep.  20.  Then — here 
again.  Maybe  I'll  give  you  a  shock  in  Oct.  I  won't 
say  Just  what — but  something.    Do  you  read  The  Sun? 

*  William  J.  Henderson,  the  music  critic. 

t  W.  C.  McCloy,  managing  editor  of  The  Evening  Sun. 


70    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

It  shines  for  all.  Laurence  Reamer  is  in  Italy.  Cer- 
tainly flush  times  reign  in  Park  Row.  Mallon*  has  been 
in  Canada  and  Bendelari  is  fatter.  Hurrah  for  Roose- 
velt !  He  is  running  the  railroads  but  he  can't  touch  The 

Sun.  . 

Au  revoir  t 

Jim 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

The  CarroIIton 
Oct.  22,  1907 
Dear  Edward  Liszt's  Birthday ! ! ! 

Of  course  I  congratulate  you !  Why  shouldn't  I  ? 
No  matter  the  weighty  technical  opinion  of  other  papers 
The  Herald  had  always  been  and  always  will  carry  the 
public.  This  is  a  fact.  And  it  has  had  some  awful  music 
critics — even  within  your  memory.  In  a  word  it  is  more 
"influential,"  with  the  mass  of  the  public.  It  makes  or 
unmakes — and  that  you  can't  predicate  of  any  other 
single  newspaper  in  the  city.  Enfin — it's  The  Herald. 
So  you  have  bigger  latitude,  more  scope,  power,  also 
more  responsibihty.  Now  sit  up  William  and  look  at  your 
Uncle  Dudley  while  he  lectures  you  in  the  fashion  of 
Polonius.  Each  word  will  count  in  The  Herald.  And  it 
is  all  easily  found.  I  shall  read  it  with  more  pleasure 
now  that  I  know  you  are  its  music-critic.  (Did  you 
write  "The  Merry  Widow"  this  morning?)  Make  friends 
on  the  staff" !  Bow  the  knee  to  White.  He  is  grand  Pan- 
jandrum. Look  up  Kelley,  the  Commander  Kelley,  who 
writes  yachting  &  steamship  eds.  A  great  authority  on 
matters  maritime.  One  of  Henderson's  oldest  friends. 
See  G.  M.  Payne.  Shake  the  news  editor  by  the  hand, 
Donnelly.    There's  a  lot  of  good  fellows  there,  though  I 

*  George  B.  Mallon,  city  editor  of  The  Sun. 


TO  E.   E.  ZIEGLER  71 

fancy  you  will  miss  your  friends  on  The  World.  I  don't 
know  how  you  got  the  job  but  you  got  it.  It  was  greatly 
coveted  1 0  years  ago  even  if  the  boodle  is  not  large — and 
no  matter  what  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  may  say,  its  readers 
are  not  the  musical  elect  like  those  of  The  Sun,  Tribune, 
Times  &  Post  but  it  remains  with  you  to  make  them  read 
you.     If  you  see  it  in  The  Herald  it's  read  ! 

I  congratulate  you.  You  have  hick.  Remember  in 
1899  yo^  o^^y  t)egan.  It  is  only  1907!  Don't  kick. 
Be  amiable.  Take  The  World  (and  The  Herald)  as  you 
find  it.  Make  friends.  It's  the  best  in  the  end.  And 
who  knows — per  Herald  ad  Sun !  (for  there  are  no  stars). 

Yes,  we  are  here  and  will  remain  until  next  July.  We 
bought  tickets  for  Gibraltar  from  Steamship  Meyer  for 
the  Hamburg  sailing  to  Naples  Sep.  24.  We  were  in  the 
list  pubhshed  as  sailing.  I  felt  the  spray  of  the  dear  old 
ocean  in  my  face  as  I  read  the  announcement  that  we 
had  sailed.  It  was  a  beautiful  illusion.  And  we  didn't 
go  at  the  1 2th  hour.  Mrs.  Huneker  was  forbidden  by 
Dr.  Roberts.  And  glad  we  are  for  Spain,  western 
Spain  is  under  water,  storms,  floods  and  railways  stopped. 
This  is  not  sour  grapes.  We  were  at  Cape  May,  N.  J. 
for  3  lovely  weeks.  Such  a  beach !  such  niggers !  such 
clams,  oysters,  crabs,  water  milhons,  and  such  a  narrow 
escape  from  drowning  for  your  uncle !  Went  under  once 
— rescued.  Bad  temper  for  9  minutes.  Met  Lem. 
Don't  laugh!  He  kept  the  hotel.  His  last  name  is — 
don't  laugh !  Lemuel  H.  Lightcap.  Isn't  that  a  won- 
der. Mrs.  Huneker  is  not  very  well.  The  trip  did  her 
good;  but — she's  not  the  same  old  girl  she  was.  I  hope 
for  improvement  as  soon  as  she  begins  her  Turkish  baths. 
How  is  the  gang?  I'm  going  to  Boston  this  week  to  look 
at  Mrs.  Jack's  (Mrs.  Jack  Gardner)  pictures.     Stay  a  few 


72    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

days  and  hope  to  hear  the  band.    How  is  Suzanne?    And 

did  you  pay  ofF  the  roast  beef  bill  I  incurred  for  you ! 

Did  you  ever  see  such  a  glutton !     I  had  a  bandwurm. 

Remember  us  both  to  Mrs.  Ziegler  and  tell  the  angel 

child  I'm  going  to  take  her  to  the  circus  to  see  Buhlig  and 

Pohlig  play  Gee-gee.     Keep  up  your  spirits — the  game  is 

ridiculous  but  we  must  all  pretend  that  it  is  something 

important.  .     t- 

^  As  Ever  , 

Jim 


To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroHton 

pv  ^  Oct.  28,  1907 

Dear  Charles: 

Pardon  my  delay  in  answering  your  letter.  I'm  busy 
— w^hich  is  not  a  pohte  excuse — but  I'm  also  so  distracted 
by  a  dozen  things  that  I  couldn't  sit  down  to  answer  any 
correspondence.  The  little  surprise  I  wrote  about  was 
that  we  were  booked  to  sail — tickets  bought  &c. — Sep. 
24th  (the  same  day  as  Mr.  Mitchell)  on  the  Hamburg  for 
Gibraltar.  It  was  Mr.  W.  M.  L.'s  [Wm.  M.  Laffan]  sug- 
gestion that  I  go  to  Madrid  to  see  the  Velasquezes  at  the 
Prado.  Alas !  at  the  1 2th  hour  the  Missus  was  forbid- 
den to  stir  from  the  city.  I'm  glad  we  followed  the  doc- 
tor's advice.  It  would  have  been  foolhardy.  She  is  far 
from  well — can't  endure  fatigue.  And  the  floods  and 
storms  in  Spain  and  Southern  France  would  have  caught 
us  when  we  landed.  But  we  are  both  in  the  dumps.  We 
expected  to  leave  Spain,  go  through  lower  France  and 
reach  Paris  about  Nov.  ist  and  give  you  a  surprise.  The 
"Liszt,"  my  boy  will  not  appear  until  a  more  appropriate 
time — as  near  191 1  as  possible  (the  looth  anniversary  of 


TO  CHARLES  J.  ROSEBAULT  73 


his  birth  is  to  be  hugely  observed  in  Europe).  My 
other  book  on  French  thinkers  will  appear  next  year. 
I've  pubhshed  several  magazine  stories  lately — nothing 
of  interest.  Did  you  see  "The  Magic  Lantern"  in  the 
July  Century?  How  is  Mrs.  Rosebault?  Has  she  com- 
posed lately?  And  is  your  novel  ready?  Or  is  there  a 
play?  There  is  no  news — I've  not  been  down  town  for 
6  weeks.  Gregg  is  back  from  Canada.  McCIoy  is  in 
England,  so  is  Mr.  Mitchell.  Reggie  de  Koven  is  re- 
appointed music  critic  of  The  World  and  Ziegler  has  gone 
to  The  Herald — a  much  more  sympathetic  Job  for  him. 
Meltzer  left  Conried  and  is  music  critic  of  The  Journal. 
Ralph  Edmunds  has  his  old  job  at  the  Metropolitan  with 
Conried.  Conried  can't  walk  without  two  men  helping; 
his  legs  are  gone.  Yet  he  persists*  marvellous  is  his  will 
power. 

I  envy  you  both.  Excuse  my  brevity.  Fm  just  back 
from  Boston  where  I  went  to  look  for  some  pictures  for 
the  Boss.*  Sometime  I'll  tell  you  how  lovely  he  is  treat- 
ing me — he  can't  do  enough,  so  it  seems.  (Thanks  to 
you,  old  chap,  for  the  same  favors.)  Regards  to  you 
both  and  from  Mrs.  Huneker  also. 

As  Ever  t 

Jim 

Spanuth  now  owns  and  edits  the  Signale  fiir  die  Musi- 
kalische  Welt  of  Leipzig.  He  has  his  chance  at  last, 
Josef  Hofmann  here  last  Sat.  created  a  tremendous  sen- 
sation at  his  recital. 

*  Wm.  M.  Laflfan. 


74    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

This  letter  bears  upon  an  arrangement  with  The  Sun  by  vhich 
that  paper  was  to  have  for  a  time  the  exclusive  right  to  publish  Mr. 
Huneker's  writings. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  Dec.  3rd  1907 

The  arrangement  is  admirable  and  I  thank  you  heartily 
for  making  all  the  rough  ways  smooth.  I  shall  call  in  a 
day  or  so  and  renew  my  thanks  in  person.  I  shall  write 
for  no  other  daily  paper  but  The  Sun  here  or  in  any  other 
city  on  any  subjects.  Nor  shall  I  write  for  any  maga- 
zine on  the  theme  of  painting  etc.  But  other  themes 
such  as  fiction  or  music,  or  general  critical  articles,  in  the 
monthly  magazines  I  shall  continue  to  contribute.  I  be- 
lieve you  understand  this;  indeed,  I  have  a  lot  of  stuff 
forthcoming  in  the  Spring  and  Summer  on  literature  etc. 
But  not  a  line  about  painting,  or  the  plastic  arts.  This 
suits  me  very  well.  As  to  the  editorials — I  shall  over- 
come my  feelings  of  dismay  and  timidity  (it  is  genuine 
stage  fright,  Mr.  Mitchell)  and  contribute  one  every 
week,  beginning  next  week.  I  suppose  the  theme  may 
be  almost  anything  except  music  or  the  stage,  or — poli- 
tics! 

I  looked  up  that  letter  from  the  Armenian  poet,  I  spoke 
of.  He  wrote  from  Freikah,  Mt.  Lebanon.  I  have  the 
letter,  also  the  olive  wood  cigar  holder.  I  shall  send 
them  to  you.  He  writes  idiomatic  English.  Enclosed  is 
current  exhibition  copy  and  all  there  is  for  the  current 
week  with  what  I  saved  from  the  Boston  story.  It  reads 
sanely  now.  I  made  the  mistake  of  tacking  together  too 
absolutely  disparate  stories.  I  hope  never  again  to  send 
down  anything  "not  available." 

Sincerely  yours 

James  Huneker 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  75 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroIIton 

rs  ^^r  Dec.  2$,  1907 

De.\r  Karl: 

A  Merry  Christmas  (You'll  get  this  10  days  later,  but 
accept  the  will)  and  a  Happy  New  Year  to  both  of  you ! 
The  thermometer  is  60  degrees  in  the  sun,  in  the  shade 
50  degrees — a  warm,  lovely  day  with  Grippe  hovering  in 
the  damp  background.  I've  just  written  to  W.  M.  L. 
[William  M.  LafFan]  about  our  pictures — there  is  a  Gil- 
bert Stuart  here  now,  from  my  father's  estate  (that  tre- 
mendously insignificant  estate!) — thanking  him  for  his 
advice.  He  is  a  trump.  We — the  missus  and  I — enjoyed 
your  letters  ever  so  much.  I  read  that  portion  of  yours 
which  alluded  to  your  English  friend's  experiences  to 
Gregg.  Yes,  you  are  right,  bathtubs,  not  Bohemia  now- 
a-days  for  me.  I  loathe  Paris  to  live  in — unless  one  has 
steam  heat  and  running  water.  I  am  become  material- 
istic. I  wouldn't  live  in  the  Latin  Quarter  with  its  dirt, 
genius,  squalor  and  gayety  for  the  price  of  a  house. 
Once,  when  j'-ou  are  very  young — then  is  Paris  a  fairy 
dream  in  its  settings.  But  don't  peep  behind  the  scenes. 
The  Cafe  I  note,  Guerbois,  may  have  recently  changed 
its  name,  but  it  was  there  in  1905,  just  at  the  corner 
where  the  Boulevard  des  BatignoIIes  becomes  Clichy, 
right  hand  side.  However,  even  if  it  is  there  it  is  only 
peopled  by  ghosts.  Germany  is  more  gemiitlich  than 
France,  Charles.  I  strongly  advise  you  not  to  stay  too 
long  in  one  spot.  The  Riviera  for  Winter,  Florence  and 
Rome  for  the  Spring,  and  Norway  or  Sweden  for  mid- 
summer. Stockholm  beats  Copenhagen — it  is  a  fine  place 
to  live  in.  Comfort  also !  (Alas !  where  is  the  Bohe- 
mianism  of  yester-year!)     I  am  surprised  to  hear  from 


76    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Mrs.  Rosebault — and  I'm  extremely  pleased  to  get  one 
from  her — that  she  purposes  entering  the  Conservatoire. 
First  I  didn't  think  they  would  let  any  one  in  after  i6 
(and  I  know  she  is  only  ly^i)  if  a  foreigner.  Does  she 
wish  to  study  composition?  Then  why  go  to  those  whose 
theories  belong  to  the  Stone  Age  (10,000,000  years  before 
the  Goyem  Mescheoch?)  There's  Debussy  who  is  mod- 
ern. Mrs.  Rosebault  is  already  well  grounded — why  not 
study  with  the  men  who  are  making  musical  history  !  If 
she  wishes  to  pursue  her  piano  technique  to  its  remotest 
lair,  there  is  my  friend  Isidore  Phillip,  a  marvel  as  a 
techniker,  pianist  and  teacher.  He  is  at  the  Conserva- 
toire but  has  private  pupils.  However,  you  are  on  the 
ground  and  know  what  you  wish. 

Yes,  the  Autumn  Salon  must  have  blistered  your  eye- 
balls. Nevertheless  Cezanne  is  a  great  painter — purely 
as  a  painter,  one  who  seizes  and  expresses  actuality. 
This  same  actuality  is  always  terrifyingly  ugly  (fancy 
waking  up  at  night  and  discovering  one  of  his  females  on 
the  pillow  next  to  you  !)  There  is  the  ugly  in  life  as  well 
as  the  pretty,  my  dear  boy,  and  for  artistic  purposes  it  is 
often  more  significant  and  characteristic.  But — ugly  is 
Cezanne.  He  could  paint  a  bad  breath.  I  don't  doubt 
you  have  a  big  card  up  your  sleeve.  Don't  work  too 
hard.  Thank  Mrs.  Rosebault  for  her  kind  letter.  Tell  her 
that  Francois  Plante,  in  his  day  was  a  masterly  Mozart 
and  Mendelssohn  player.  Hummel  was  never  exceeded 
in  beauty  of  touch  and  style  as  a  Mozart  interpreter; 
Mendelssohn  would  have  been  jealous  to  have  heard  him 
play  the  G  minor  Conservatory  Concerto.  Don't  smile 
— Plante  had  a  phenomenal  fmger  technique.  But  his 
tone,  like  the  tone  of  all  French  pianists  was  pale  moon- 
light.    Kisler  is  better,  so  is  Pugno — who  has  only  a 


TO  EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  77 

pounding /or^e.  The  French  are  not  pianists  (unless  like 
my  old  master  Mathias,  or  Theodore  Ritter  they  happen 
to  have  had  oriental  blood  in  their  fmger  tips.)  Nor  is 
Paris  a  true  musical  city,  like  Berlin,  or  Munich  (oh  my 
dear  old  thirst !)  I  paid  20  francs  to  hear  Saint-Saens  at 
the  Salle  Pleyel.  The  affair  was  ^rds  chic  and  bustle 
one  third  antiquated  music  making.  Calonne  and — 
what's  the  other  fellow's  name,  Lamoureux's  son-in-law? 
— concerts  on  Sunday  are  worthwhile.  The  opera  is  sim- 
ply rotten.  The  Comique  a  trifle  better.  No,  Paris  has 
good  cooking  (if  you  pay  for  it)  and  pictures,  a  heavenly 
landscape  that's  all.  But  Charles,  do  not  forget  when 
you  are  homesick  in  Paris  that,  on  your  return  to  New 
York,  you  will  be  homesick /or  Paris — or  Europe. 

Yours 


Jim 


To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 


The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell 

The  Rops  Story  enclosed  is  the  first  to  appear — as  far 
as  I  know — in  English.  Bryan*  gives  him  a  stickful; 
and  columns  to  many  British  mediocrities.  Rops  was  a 
master  etcher;  but  his  frankly  pornographic  themes  had 
kept  him  on  the  back  shelves  of  collectors.  Naturally  I 
have  handled  the  theme  with  gloves,  neither  preaching 
nor  yet  making  one  of  those  "passionate  pleas"  for  jus- 
tice which  young  men  are  so  fond  of;  I  was,  at  least. 
Rops,  except  his  masterpieces,  is  simply  impossible.  I've 
described  the  pictures  that  are  not  in  the  least  offensive. 
And  I  pride  myself  in  not  having  used  the  abominable 
word  "erotic"  once!     Enclosed  also  a  note  from  The 

*  "Dictionary  of  Painters." 


78    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Tribune,  which,  of  course  takes  the  silly  spinster  view  of 
Balzac  for  which  Miss  Wormley  is  to  blame.  Balzac  de- 
naturalized. However,  The  Sun  did  not  commit  itself  to 
the  Gigoux  story;  but  in  the  main  the  facts  were  as 

'^^^^^'  Sincerely  j^^^^  Huneker 


1908 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

The  CarroIIton 

Jan.  19,  1908 
Dear  Ned 

It  was  good  of  Mrs.  Ziegler  to  come  to  the  box;  why 
didn't  she  make  a  sign !  Louis  told  us.  What  a  per- 
formance !  Mahler  is  a  painter.  When  I  asked  you  in 
the  lobby  about  that  Herald  notice  I  meant  to  add  that 
it  was  exceedingly  tactful  and  sensible !  I  feared  you 
misunderstood  me.  I  liked  it.  Naturally  on  The  Herald 
you  can't  expect  space  enough  for  the  psychology  of 
voice  production,  The  Herald  won't  stand  for  elaborate 
criticism.  But  they  did  let  you  have  your  own  way, 
and  that's  gratifying,  when  the  town  was  wide  open 
shouting  over  T.  the  female  flute.  Can't  you  take 
luncheon  some  day  this  week  either  at  the  Savoy  or  the 
Grand  Union?  Make  it  Saturday,  say,  if  you  happen 
to  have  to  be  over  at  Carnegie  Hall,  later.  However,  let 
me  know.  Friday  is  Philharmonic,  isn't  it?  And  it's 
a  poor  day  for  me.  Sunday  stuff.  Make  it  Sat.  at 
12.30  or  12.45  <^r  I  o'clock,  and  give  me  at  least  an  hour 
or  more!  I  hope  you  understand  about  the  "Isolde" 
tickets.  You  said  the  house  was  sold  out — and  so  it  was. 
Therefore  I  didn't  care  to  trouble  Weil  or  you  and  I  went 
for  Olive,  who  was  amiable.  Both  you  and  Weil  are  so 
hearty  in  your  invitations  that  I  often  feel  ashamed 
that  I  do  not  respond  oftener.  I  had  expected  to  see 
you  after  "Tristan";  saw  Willie  Chase  and  the  Moodys 
and  Gregg — but  the  latter  had  a  dinner  engagement,  and 

79 


8o    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

aufgeregt  as  we  were,  the  Missus  and  I,  we  were  forced 
to  go  home,  our  nerves  taut,  my  mouth  a  dusty  cavern 
and  head  humming  with  that  marvellous  music.  Oh  je ! 
I  cursed  pictures  and  longed  for  a  bath  of  tone.  To-day 
I  rejoice  that  I  do  not  have  to  hear  music.  It  is  emi- 
nently immoral  to  transform  the  porches  of  your  ears 
into  voluptuous  tonal  cages  (help !)  If  you  should  hap- 
pen to  read  my  "Baudelaire"  to-day  please  read  for 
"humorist"  near  end  of  ist  col.  humanist  (in  speaking  of 
Baudelaire's  salons)  also,  in  middle  of  2nd  col.  end  of 
par.  I  wrote  of  "the  antics  of  the  Baudelarians"  being 
comical.  The  typesetter  made  me  say  "critics"!  !  I 
Hellish !  But  it  was  ever  so.  Saw  Pulvermacher.  Is  it 
true  as  The  Times  said  this  morning  that  Herbert,  Van 
der  Stucken  and  Walter  Damrosch  were  in  the  house 
yesterday  afternoon?  I  saw  Herz,  whom  I  like  exceed- 
ingly— a  clever  thinker  and  one  who  thinks  a  lot  about 
music  (we  did  not  discuss  Mahler !)  But  the  other  boys 
I  missed.  What  a  job  you  had  all  day!  I'm  out  of 
breath.     Regards  to  Madame  from  both. 

^'  E^^"^         Jim 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 

Jan.  31st,  1908 

But  good  heavens  My  dear  Mr.  Mitchell.  I  had  no 
idea  of  mtruding  my  personal  pecuniary  woe  upon  your 
busy  map!  I  deeply  appreciate  your  friendly  advance 
and  will  repay  it  as  soon  as  I  can — a  question  of  a  few 
weeks.  Yet  that  does  not  lighten  the  burden  of  obliga- 
tion to  you.  You  must  begin  to  suspect  that  I  am  an 
improvident  fellow;  and,  as  Mrs.  Huneker  rather  sar- 
castically remarked  to  me  today,   (oh !  Woman  in  our 


TO  EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  8i 

hours  of  ease !)  that  as  it  is  my  48th  birthday,  this  very 
day,  I  ought  to  feel  happy  that  I  am  not  in  debt!  To 
be  sure  we  had  no  money  until  the  arrival  of  your  cheque, 
but  we  owe  no  one  a  penny — except  the  inevitable  land- 
lord Tomorrow.  It  is  beyond  my  comprehension,  how, 
even  with  the  two  bank  smash-ups  (one  representing  al- 
most every  penny  I  have  received  from  The  Sun  since 
December)  we  were  not  better  belted  to  meet  the  sud- 
den storm.  It  was  my  worriment  to  meet  a  note  held 
by  my  brother,  about  which  I  wrote  you,  that  cleaned 
me  out.  Fraternal  pride  met  a  fall !  I  look  for  the  Sun 
cheque  you  speak  of,  in  the  morning.  I,  naturally  feel 
brighter  this  evening,  and  it's  something  more  than  the 
money  involved,  Mr.  Mitchell;  it's  the  quick  response  of 
your  friendly  spirit.     I  assure  you  I  appreciate  it. 

Sincerely 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  Feb.  16,  1908 

When  your  letter  with  its  pleasant  words  about  my 
too  crowded  and  heavy  Stendhal  study  reached  me  it 
found  me  at  work  on  the  enclosed.  It  is  not  a  resume  or 
a  triple  distilled  condensation  of  the  Scribner  article.  It 
is  a  little  light  thrown  on  the  art  loving  side  of  S.  espe- 
cially his  writings  on  Italian  art.  He  was  a  plagiarist, 
yet  he  said  a  whole  lot  for  himself.  I  have  stuck  to  my 
text  and  there  is  nothing  of  my  other  study  save  the 
repetition  of  the  dates  of  birth  and  death  and  also  allu- 
sions to  his  Consulship  at  Civita  Vecchia.  In  addition 
there  are  several  new  anecdotes,  culled  no  later  than  last 
week  in  Paris  monthlies — Stendhaliana  increases  yearly ! 


82    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I  had  a  thought  of  an  editorial,  but  dismissed  the  notion 
at  once  as  being  impracticable;  besides,  this  present  arti- 
cle is  a  perfectly  fresh  discussion  of  Stendhal's  views  on 
art — principally  the  art  pictorial.  John  Lafarge  wrote 
some  months  ago  that  back  in  the  70s  in  Paris  he  and 
"Harry"  James  discussed  S.  with  totally  opposite  opin- 
ions. I  had  intended  to  send  this  stuff  to  you  last  Fri- 
day, with  an  eye  on  Sunday,  but  my  courage  failed  me. 
I  have  so  often  "hogged"  the  best  columns  of  the  Sunday 
page  that  I  thought  it  might  be  a  good  idea  to  give  its 
editor  and  readers  a  rest  (Oh  I  miraculous  humility  in  a 
penman).  But  I  fear  now  the  story  is  too  bulky  for  use 
during  the  week,  not  to  mention  its  subject,  so  I  sup- 
pose, if  you  like  it,  it  will  be  slated  for  next  Sunday  or 
Monday.  If  so  I  may  then  ask  the  favor  of  galley  proofs, 
though  I  fancy  the  copy  is  clearer  than  my  custom. 
However  I  hope  to  call  on  you  personally  next  Tuesday 
morning  before  midday,  on  another  matter,  and  you 
may  be  able  to  let  me  know  then. 
Sincerely  with  apologies  for  such  a  long  letter 

I  am  as  ever 

James  Huneker 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 

The  CarroIIton 
Dear  Mr.  Morse  F^^-  ^''  ^908 

I  took  that  cheque  seriously.  It  meant  after  9  years 
that  I  at  last  owed  Chas.  Scribner's  Sons  nothing — a  feat 
not  achieved  often  in  these  days  of  milHonaire  publishers 
and  beggar  authors.  I  told  you  that  the  Liszt  would 
reach  you — a  bulky  mss. — in  due  time.  Again,  has 
"Pelleas  &  Melisande"  proved  to  me  the  timeliness  of 
books  about  music  or  the  drama.     In  "Overtones"  years 


TO  EDWIN  W.  MORSE  83 

ago  I  wrote  of  this  music-drama  of  Debussy,  for  the  first 
time  in  English.  All  the  gang,  all  the  young  fellows  used 
my  word.  Ibsen  is  another  case.  The  best  "seller" 
(hollow  mockery!)  which  I  have  turned  out  is  "Icono- 
clasts"— it  was  revolutionary.  Print  a  big  life  of  Liszt 
now  when  his  name  is  eclipsed  by  Debussy  &  R.  Strauss  ! 
I  fancy  not.  But  in  191 1  when  all  musical  Europe  is 
to  organize  fetes  &  festivals  in  honor  of  his  looth 
birthday  anniversary — that's  the  time.  Then  my  Liszt 
will  appear  opportunely,  but  too  late  for  a  lot  of 
pirates  to  turn  out  handy  monographs  and  pilfer  the  re- 
sults of  my  labors.  Both  Finck  and,  in  BerHn,  Richard 
Burmeister  (a  Liszt  pupil)  have  agreed  with  me  on  this 
point.  Voyez  vous,  mon  cher  Edouard?  Besides,  in 
1909,  I'll  give  you  a  good,  solid  volume  of  essays — I'm 
still  writing  them.  A  book  that  will  hang  together, 
from  title  to  index.  The  Sun  only  gets  a  few  hours  of 
my  time  a  week.  I  see  pictures;  the  exercise  is  healthy. 
And  the  money  comes  in  handy.  I  need  it.  On  my  last 
birthday,  my  48th  Jan.  31st,  my  bank,  the  Mechanics 
&  Traders  closed  its  doors  (59th  &  Madison  Ave.  Branch). 
Every  cent  is  locked  up  that  I  own — at  least,  in  New 
York.  Mrs.  Huneker's  all  is  in  the  Knickerbocker.  A 
free-lunch  route  for  us  this  summer.  Two  bad  jabs  in 
the  financial  ribs  in  one  season !  Is  it  any  wonder  I'm 
turning  out  copy  for  the  magazines  and  on  the  water 
wagon  (for  economy's,  not  temperance  sake). 

Yours  uncomplainingly  and  with  thanks  for  the  cheque 
(I  bought  a  dollar  book  yesterday  at  your  house;  so  I 
have  only  24  cts.  left).  j  ^^  gincerely 

James  Huneker 

P.  S.  Whether  you  believe  it  or  no,  you  will  have  the 
Liszt  out  in  191 1.     I  will  need  the  money  for  a  yachting 


84      LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

trip  then.  But  it  will  be  hard  cash  down,  over  the 
counter,  in  advance,  on  receipt  of  manuscript.  No  more 
decades  of  weary  royalties  for  Willy ! 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  Carrolhon 
Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  Feb.  27,  1908 

Unluckily  your  hint  about  the  figures  in  the  Boston 
editorial  came  too  late.  I  had  written  the  article.  But 
I  don't  think  there  is  too  much  statistics.  Naturally,  I 
do  not  excel  in  this  style,  yet  I  wish  to  practice  it  as  often 
as  possible.  Writing  isn't  all  beer  and  art  and  skittles. 
Enclosed  the  editorial;  also  the  letter  for  Mr.  LafFan. 
Enclosed  also  some  copy  for  Sunday  or  Monday,  which  I 
send  down  with  certain  misgivings  as  to  its  reception  by 
you.  It  is  an  attempt  (not  to  be  repeated  too  soon)  to 
break  away  from  my  cut  and  dried  stuff.  I  am  prepar- 
ing a  little  etude  on  Goya;  but  it  will  not  be  ready  until 
the  Saint-Gaudens  affair  is  over  next  week.  The  copy 
within  that  I  refer  to  is  a  series  of  6  or  7  little  portraits 
after  the  manner — a  long  way  after !— of  La  Bruyere  or 
Vauvenargues.  They  have  sub-heads  and  they  deal  with 
several  well-known  artistic  types  that  you  know,  that 
the  world  knows.  I  bother  you  with  this  explanation, 
though  it  really  is  not  necessary.  I  have,  my  dear  Mr. 
Mitchell  been  suffering  during  the  past  10  days  from 
what  the  Irish  happily  call,  "The  Gloom."  An  incipient 
cold  may  be  at  its  base.  Ten  years  ago  I  would  have 
put  it  away,  with  copious  beers;  but,  Alas!  I'm  gouty 
and  full  of  uric  acid  and  my  head  is  no  longer  strong. 
Consider  me  as  relaxing  from  my  usual  dull  critical  grav- 
ity in  these  vignettes.  I've  poured  out  my  spleen  upon 
paper.     For  over  a  year  in  The  Sun  I've  been  amiable, 


TO  BENJAMIN  DE  CASSERES  85 

optimistic,  for  one  Sunday  I  wish  to  be  pessimistic  and 
sarcastic  (though  my  irony  may  not  hit  the  mark).  I've 
entitled  the  story  "Sour  Notes,"  with  appropriate  sub- 
heads. I  do  hope  you  will  approve,  I  think  there  will  be 
some  fun  in  the  story  and  much  guessing — though  I've 
absolutely  avoided  any  unpleasant  personalities.  I've 
sought  for  odd  types — the  old  dilettante;  the  art  auction- 
eer; the  woman  without  taste  in  pictures;  the  painter's 
hat  of  Hammerstein;  M.  Victor  Maurel's  collar  modelled 
after  Hyacinthe  Rigaud;  the  cane  of  Herr  Roosevelt — 
these  are  the  general  subjects.  I  had  included  one  other, 
"Crito  the  Critic,"  but  I  feared  it  was  too  subjective. 
The  rest  I  have  sought  for  objectivity — odious  word — for 
a  dramatization  of  my  spleen. 

Sincerely  yours 

James  Huneker 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Between  Mr.  Huneker  and  Mr,  Benjamin  De  Casseres  there  was  a 
strong  bond  of  intellectual  sympathy.  The  younger  journalist, 
critic,  and  author  shared  many  of  Mr.  Huneker's  views  and  enthusi- 
asms and  the  two  constantly  discussed  matters,  chiefly  literary,  in 
person  or  by  letter. 

The  CarroIIton, 

Dear  De  Casseres  ^^^  7,  1908 

Instead  of  lecturing  you  on  your  pessimistic  view  of 
life  and  your  metaphysical  nihihsm,  I  calmly  consider 
your  case  as  brilliantly  hopeless.  Not  having  the  school- 
master temperament  I  have  no  need  to  swing  over  your 
head  the  metaphorical  birch.  Besides  it  wouldn't  mend 
matters.  You  are  in  the  clutches  of  the  most  divine 
illusion  that  was  ever  fabricated  by  the  brain  of  man: 
i.e.  that  reality  has  no  existence;  the  very  fact  man  in- 


86    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

vented  the  eris  realissimus  proves  it  exists.  However,  go 
your  winding  way.  Personally  I  prefer  you  and  Scho- 
penhauer to  the  new  Pragmatism.  You  have  a  big  fu- 
ture but  you  are  letting  it  cobweb  with  your  clogging 
spiders.  To  hell  with  spiders!  You  for  the  boodle 
prizes :  chuck  books  to  the  gutter.  One  moment  of  real 
life  is  worth  a  ton  of  platitudes  (like  the  one  I've  just 
written).  Two  courses  are  open  to  you.  Go  to  work 
as  a  reporter  on  The  World  or  Journal,  burrow  into  the 
very  mire  of  life;  or  else,  marry  a  rich  confiding  girl  (and 
suspect  advice  from  fat  amateurs  of  illusions,  like  my- 
self). I  enjoyed  the  "Pal."  Print  it  somewhere  simply  to 
make  someone  mad.     ThaCs  a  sweet  Joy,  too. 

Cordial  greetings  from 

James  Huneker 


To  Arthur  B.  Davies 

Arthur  B.  Davies  received  many  letters  from  James  Huneker.  Un- 
fortunately the  package  was  put  away  so  carefully  that,  when  the 
artist  moved  into  his  present  studio,  some  time  ago,  it  could  not  be 
found.  The  following  letter  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Davies  in  a  copy 
of  "Egoists"  just  in  time  for  inclusion  in  the  present  volume. 

The  CarroIIton 
Madison  Avenue  cor  76th  St., 

Dear  Mr.  Davies  :—  ^^^  ^^'  ^9o8 

Enclosed  is  the  little  Botticelli  story  I  spoke  of.  When 
you  have  read  it  may  I  trouble  you  to  return  it— it  hap- 
pens to  be  the  only  copy  I  own?  I  have  asked  my  pub- 
lishers, the  Scribners,  to  send  you  my  books— the  ones 
you  haven't  read.  Don't  be  overwhelmed  by  the  ava- 
lanche. You  don't  have  to  read  them  all.  Only  I  shall 
feel  that  in  your  hands  a  few  of  them  will  be  understood 


TO  EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  87 


and  their  shortcomings  (for  they  are  tentative  sketches, 
after  all)  covered  by  the  mantle  of  charity. 

If  you  will  read  the  "Visionaries"  first — it  is  not  a 
didactic  or  critical  work  though  fiction  hardly  conceals  its 
purpose !  I  am  anxious  that  you  read  "The  Third  King- 
dom" or  "The  Spiral  Road"  or  "Rebels  of  the  Moon" 
before  the  other  tales. 

For  Arthur  Davies,  mystic  as  well  as  artist,  they  were 

"'""^"-  Sincerely,  As  ever      j^^^^  Huneker. 


To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 
May  29,  1908 
Dear  Mr.  Mitchell 

The  EI  Greco  was  received  with  pleasure.  I'll  read  it 
&  write  something  for  Sunday  a  week — June  7.  I 
couldn't  prepare  anything  sooner;  nor  do  you  want  it 
sooner,  I  fancy.  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  see  Mr. 
Laffan  since  last  I  saw  you,  but  was  unlucky  enough  to 
find  him  occupied  or  else  not  in  the  City.  I'll  try  early 
in  the  week  for  I  should  like  to  speak  with  him  on  the 
book. 

Enclosed  is  a  story  that  should  have  been  written  a 
year  ago.  Davies  is  the  most  poetic  and  original  painter 
in  America,  much  more  so  than  Ryder.  I  have  taken 
time  and  pains  with  the  story  for  I  know  that  Davies  is 
about  the  only  young  artist  in  this  country  for  whom 
Mr.  Laffan  entertains  any  liking.  I  wish  you  could  see 
those  strange  echoes  from  Florence,  yet  indescribably 
modern  in  spirit.  They  demonstrate  the  vitality,  the 
eternal  youth  of  the  old  principles.  The  story  is  about 
two  columns.     If  it  could  be  smuggled  in  anywhere  on 


88      LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

your  page  next  Sunday  it  would  give  me  joy.    The  writ- 
ing is  fairly  legible  so  I  shan't  have  to  read  proofs;  unless 

you  so  desire  it.  c-         t 

"^  bmcerely 


James  Huneker 


To  W.  C.  Brownell 

Mr.  Huneker  usually  took  up  with  Mr.  Brownell,  of  the  Editorial 
Department  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  all  questions  connected  with 
the  publication  of  his  books,  consulting  him  with  regard  to  their  con- 
tents, and  upon  various  points  connected  with  the  text  as  they  might 
arise  in  the  reading  of  copy  and  proof. 

The  CarroIIton, 
Dear  Mr.  Brownell:  October  9,  1908. 

We  are  equally  right  and  wrong.  The  article  on  "Bau- 
delaire et  le  Baudelaireisme,"  may  be  found  in  Vol.  VIII 
of  Scherer's  "Etudes  sur  la  Litterature  Contemporaine" 
(Paris  1 863-1 889.  Nine  volumes).  This  would  argue 
that  it  appeared  in  the  '8o's.  It  did.  It  was  caused  by 
a  review  of  Bourget's  "Essais"  (1882)  when — about — 
did  you  see  it  and  in  what  revue?  Possibly  the  Deux 
Mondes.  James'  book  (ist  edition)  appeared  1878.  The 
study  must  have  been  written  a  year  or  two  previous. 
He  gives  no  dates.  Subsequent  editions  of  his  volume 
appeared  1884,  and  1893.  (Lord!  isn't  it  lovely  to  be 
able  to  write  1884  again;  1908  is  so  chilly,  so  dreary  to 
me.)  Scherer  was  an  ex-Protestant  (Calvinistic)  clergy- 
man. His  mother  an  Englishwoman.  Little  wonder  he 
couldn't  savor  Baudelaire.  Besides,  he  was  bad-tem- 
pered when  contradicted.  And  he  hated  Carlyle,  Mo- 
liere,  Diderot;  so  Baudelaire  is  in  good  company.  Will 
you  take  it  as  an  impertinence  if  I  beg  of  you  to  revise, 
be  it  ever  so  slightly,  your  belief  that  Poe  was  a  greater 
poet  than  Baudelaire !     While  Poe  was  far  from  being 


TO  W.  C.   BROWNELL  89 

Emerson's  jfngle-man,  he  never  struck  the  profounder 
chords  of  passion  so  marvellously  sounded  by  the  wretched 
Baudelaire.  Take  down  "Fleurs  du  Mai"  from  the  shelf 
and  read  the  tiny  masterpiece  again.  There  is  all  the 
horror  we  find  in  Poe;  but  also  humanity,  pathos,  sex. 

Another  thing,  before  Baudelaire  ever  heard  of  Poe  he 
had  written  the  greater  number  of  his  poems  of  Spleen 
and  Ideal.  This  was  before  1846  or  1847,  when  he  first 
read  the  Poe  tales — not  the  verse.  Anyhow  the  color 
and  contact  of  the  "Fleurs  du  Mai"  reveal  the  enormous 
difference.  I  admit  that  in  the  "  Poems  in  Prose,"  Baude- 
laire was  affected  by  Poe.  All  this  I  set  forth  with  many 
amplifications  in  the  "Baudelaire  Legend,"  which  Mr. 
Burlingame*  was  considerate  enough  to  accept.  It  is  not, 
my  dear  Mr.  Brownell,  that  I  wish  our  estimates  to  ac- 
cord— that  would  indeed  be  presumptuous  on  my  part — 
but,  that,  since  the  spring  of  1908  I  came  into  possession 
of  the  newly  published  life,  the  Diary  ("Mon  Coeur  mis 
a  nu")  the  posthumous  words  and  the  Letters.  Therein 
I  saw  that  while  Baudelaire  raved  all  over  Paris  about 
Poe,  he  was  fundamentally  Baudelaire  from  first  to  last. 
Naturally,  this  will  not  affect  your  Poe  study;  but  it  may 
throw,  as  the  newspaper  critics  say,  a  new  light  on  the 
Frenchman.  I  "go"  for  Stedman  and  Bayard  Taylor, 
who,  while  abusing  Poe  for  his  thirst  (what  a  sublime 
thirst  it  was !)  nevertheless  pitch  patriotically  into  Bau- 
delaire, claiming  that  he  imitated  Poe.  Rubbish !  He 
was  the  victim  of  an  accursed  and  beautiful  tempera- 
ment— one  all  his  own.  Documentary  evidence  I  have 
by  the  yard  as  you  will  see  later.  I  hope  I  don't  bother 
you  with  this  chatter.  You  are  one  of  the  elect,  mon 
cher  maitre.     I  owe  much  to  you.     (Though  this  does  not 

*  E.  L.  Burlingame,  then  editor  of  Scribner's  Magazine. 


90    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


seem  a  grateful  way  of  repaying  one's  obligation  does  it?) 
In  Henry  James'  ** French  Poets  and  Novelists''  (1893 
edition)  page  60  occurs  the  following  sentence:  "Never- 
theless, Poe  was  much  the  greater  charlatan  of  the  two, 
as  well  as  the  greater  genius"  I  can't  agree.  Poe  was 
more  versatile  than  Baudelaire  and  that's  saying  much. 
Baudelaire  had  critical  gifts  for  art.  There,  Poe  was 
shallow;  at  least  not  well  grounded.  If  Poe  could  only 
have  lived  in  Paris !  What  absinthe  duettos,  with  Bau- 
delaire singing  bass !     sij^^erely  yours, 

James  Huneker. 


To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroIIton 

Nov.  27,  1908 
Dear  Charles: 

Thanks  for  the  picture.  I  had  seen  a  reproduction 
but  nothing  so  satisfactory  as  this.  I'll  hang  it  where  I 
can  see  it  often. 

Enclosed  letter  to  Lorimer,  also  card  to  send  in  with 
yours.     He  is  a  fine  chap,  Lorimer. 

Arch  Street,  near  6th  is,  I  think,  the  address.  Hope 
to  see  you  next  month.  I'm  smeared  with  glue,  black 
with  ink,  on  my  lips  are  blasphemies — I  never  knew  until 
I  re-read  my  old  copy  how  rotten  it  was — is .'  I'm  build- 
ing a  book!  God  help  the  house!  Mrs.  H.  is  out  all 
day  in  despair.  Talk  about  obstetrics  and  births  &c. 
when  a  man  gives  birth  to  a  book  it  is  the  mountain  in 
labor  with  a  mouse  (and  such  a  little  mouse !)     Regards. 

Jim 


TO  MME.   FRIDA  ASHFORTH  91 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

The  CarroIIton 
Dear  Frida  Ashforth  Dec.  23rd,  1908. 

You  are  certainly  an  angel  of  kindness  and  courtesy 
to  the  rude  Hunekers.  Your  witty  remembrance  pleased 
us  greatly.  Thank  you  and  a  Merry  Christmas  and 
Happy  New  Year  to  you !  This  past  year  has  for  us 
been  one  of  anxiety  and  many  tribulations.  Bank  fail- 
ures and  nobody  buying  magazine  articles  or  books. 
After  a  long  hot  dull  Summer  I  finished  my  two  new 
books  one  of  which  is  to  appear  March  ist.  You  will 
get  the  first  copy  from  the  press.  I'm  reading  proofs 
now  and  trying  to  earn  a  living — neither  pleasant  jobs. 
But  I'm  coming  in  to  see  you  next  week  to  ask  you  up 
if  for  only  an  hour  or  so.  Much  water — musical  and 
otherwise — has  flowed  under  the  bridge  since  we  met. 
Mrs.  Huneker  varies;  is  well  one  week,  ill  the  next.  It 
will  take  several  years  before  she  is  her  old  robust  self. 
I  hope  you  are  well.     I  know  you  are  busy.     A  bientot ! 

Best  wishes  from 

James  Huneker 


1909 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Charles:  ^  J^"- ""''  ^^09 

I  am  the  camel  of  all  burdens  so  I  write  to  you  in  be- 
half of  Mrs.  Huneker  and  to  you  I  write  in  behalf  of  my- 
self. We  can't  go  to  dinner  either  of  the  dates  Mrs. 
Rosebault  so  kindly  suggests.  My  nights  are  not  my 
own.  But  next  Saturday  a  week — you  see  I'm  looking 
ahead  for  a  free  date  for  you  both— that  is  to  say,  Jan. 
30th,  can't  Mrs.  Rosebault  and  you  come  up  here  dur- 
ing the  afternoon,  say,  not  later  than  4  o'clock,  pay  us  a 
visit,  see  my  new  pictures  and  books,  and  then,  when  the 
spirit  moves  us  all,  go  to  dinner  with  us  wherever  you 
suggest.  But  no  evening  dress,  or  other  begad  nonsense, 
as  old  Joey  Bagstock  says?  After  dinner  we  can  go  to 
the  German  theatre;  I  can  get  seats  or  a  box  from  Otto 
Weil,  who  will  be  glad  to  see  us.  Thence  a  few  feet 
away  is  Liichows  and  Pilsner ! !  Let's  enjoy  a  true  Bohe- 
mian afternoon  and  evening.  Joseffy  will  be  at  Liichow's 
at  II  P.M.  He  is  always  a  joy  to  meet  and  listen  to; 
truly  a  superman.  I  will  celebrate  my  49th  birthday 
at  12  o'clock  when  the  31st  Jan.  is  ushered  in.  What 
do  you  both  say !     Does  it  go  for  the  30th? 

Regards  As  Ever  j 

To  Dr.  E.  J.  Nolan 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Ned:  -^a^-  ^3,  1909 

I'll  be  over  some  time  this  Spring.     I'm  reading  proofs 
on  my  new  book — and,  just  plain  hell.     Enclosed  clip- 

92 


TO  EDWARD  C.   MARSH  93 

ping  from  Sun  Gregg  wrote  after  witnessing  Eugene  Wal- 
ters new  play  "The  Easiest  Way"  which  is  the  limit  in 
realism.  If  "Mrs.  Warren's  Profession"  had  been  one 
quarter  as  coarse  (I  mean  by  imphcation)  the  police  would 
have  had  some  warrant  in  stopping  the  show.  The  in- 
consistency of  our  moral  censors  drew  from  Gregg  this 
scathing,  ironical  dialogue.*     I  thought  it  so  neat  that  I 

sent  it  to  G.  B.  S.  in  London.  ^ 

Oreetmgs,       , 

°         Jim 

P.  S.  By  the  way  if  ever  you  wish  to  make  some  girl 
a  present  of  Chopin  music,  get  from  Ditson's  either  one 
of  my  edited  selections  (the  music).  There  are  two  al- 
bums. The  new  one  is  called  "The  Greater  Chopin." 
He  is  the  only  pianoforte  composer  that  will  last  in  com- 
pany with  Bach  Fugues  and  Beethoven  Sonatas.  (Ex- 
cuse my  youthful  enthusiasm.)  ,    ^j. 

J.  ri. 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Marsh:  March  19,  1909 

You  are  always  a  brick !  Your  name  is  on  my  personal 
list  for  a  book.  Whether  you  like  the  inside,  the  con- 
tents, you  will  I  hope  acknowledge  that  it  is  a  book 
which  holds  together,  i.e.  one  theme.  I  took  3  years  to 
write  and  build  it.  How  are  you?  I  called  one  day  at 
I  o'clock  last  summer  but  you  were  at  luncheon.  I'm 
going  to  risk  it  again  after  this  month  has  passed  with 
its  acres  of  paint — mostly  bad — and  my  increasing  edi- 
torial work;  not  to  mention  book  reviews  on  the  Sunday 
page.  I've  seen  Ziegler  just  two  times  in  a  year.  Where 
has  the  old  crowd  flitted !  Alas !  for  the  feeds  of  yester- 
year. 

*The  Evening  Sun,  Jan.  21,  1909. 


94    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I   believe  "Egoists"   (Beastly  title,  my  original  was 

"The   Ivory   Tower"   but   it  wasn't  of  "commercial" 

value,  too  much  like  a  romance)  will  appear  about  April 

I  St  (not  I  hope  on  that  precise  date.) 

With  kindest  regards 

As  ever,         ,  tt 

James  Huneker,, 


To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

The  CarroIIton 
Dear  Marsh:  April  5,  1909 

You  are  indeed  kind  to  take  all  this  bother.  Enclosed 
fmd  corrected  stuff.  It  made  me  a  year  older  and  it 
made  me  see  Balzac — who  was  10  years  dead  before  I 
was  born.  Otherwise  I  can't  deny  I  am  grandson  of  the 
once  famous  Fenian,  James  Gibbons,  who  tried  to  cap- 
ture London,  via  Canada,  in  the  sixties  with  an  army  of 
5000  men.  A  dozen  English  constables  drove  the  army 
across  the  border,  and  as  my  father — a  kindly  cynic — 
remarked  years  after  the  conflict:  "They  are  still  run- 
ning." This  for  your  private  ear.  Every  family  has  its 
hidden  Joke.  Don't  spare  me  or  my  book.  You  will 
admit  its  unity — it  deals  with  one  definite  group  of  think- 
ers, and,  while  it  isn't  polemical,  it  is  contra  Socialism. 
I  feel  a  mighty  relief  in  printing  it.  My  clogged  system 
is  forever  purified  of  the  decadent  crowd.  I'm  done. 
Me  for  sunshine  and  health  foods.  My  Liszt  is  already 
under  way.     It  is  billed  to  appear  Oct.  191 1 — his  looth 

anniversary.  j  a     t- 

1  am  As  hver      j  r^ 

James  Huneker 


TO  ROYAL  CORTISSOZ  95 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 

Mr.  Cortissoz,  in  his  review  of  "  Egoists:  a  Book  of  Supermen,"  had 
taxed  Mr.  Huneker  with  giving  too  little  attention  to  "general 
ideas"  which  he  distrusted,  Mr.  Cortissoz  suggests,  in  this  comment: 
"I  think  he  felt  that  interest  in  'general  ideas,'  in  'classical  stand- 
ards,' led  to  the  danger  lying  in  crystallized  formulas." 

The  CarroIIton 

April  5,  1909 

That  was  a  very  'swell'  criticism,  my  dear  Royal,  you 

honored  me  and  my  little  seven  months  brat  of  a  book 

with.     Mrs.  Huneker  and  I  looked  important  for  several 

hours  afterward — that  is  if  a  large  fat  man,  who  runs  his 

life  on  a  greased  trolley,  can  look  ever  so.     Seriously,  I'm 

extremely  grateful.     To  be  frank — entre  nous — I  hardly 

think  the  book  worth  such  a  ripping  review.     Nor  shall 

I  quarrel  with  you  in  re  the  remarks  over  my  critical 

viewpoint.   For  me  "Egoists'*  is  an  immense  deliverance. 

Understand  me — I  love  several  of  the  men  in  it;  but  I'm 

dead  sick  of  the  decadents;  dead  sick  of  the  entire  crew 

of  "modernity"  yowlers.     The  good  I  shall  always  stick 

up  for,  but  my  early  idols — how  many  of  them? — have 

fallen  into  the  void,  and  will  vanish  in  the  embraces  of 

the  mother  of  dead  dogs.     To  rid  yourself  of  a  burden, 

drop  it!     That's  why  I  printed  the  book;  but  it's  hard 

on  Scribners,  it's  hard  on  the  readers,  and  it's  cruel  to 

my  friend  Cortissoz,  who  wrote  about  it,  such  a  brilliant 

article.     I'll  say  more  when  I  see  you.     Just  now  let  me 

thank  you.  . 

As  ever,  t  tt 

James  Huneker 


96    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Richard  Aldrich 

The  CarroIIton 

T^  T-.  ^P^^  7,  1909 

Dear  Dick 

Fm  not  sure  whether  the  book*  will  please  Mrs.  Aldrich 
for  it  is  not  a  series  of  essays  strung  together  for  the  pur- 
pose of  verbal  pyrotechnics,  etc.;  but  it  is  a  mild  protest 
against  Socialism,  and  all  submergence  of  the  individual 
by  that  encroaching  monster,  The  State.  Individualism, 
the  individualism  of  Goethe  and  Emerson  is  the  keynote. 
And  now  for  fear  you  may  think  I'm  doing  the  serious 
highbrow  act  let  me  add  that  I  had  lots  of  fun  writing 
the  wretched  little  brat  of  a  book.  Thanks  for  your 
nice  words  and  thank  Mrs.  Aldrich  for  me.  I  have 
started  in  on  a  2  years  campaign.  Muss  es  sein?  Es 
muss  sein !  The  "Liszt."  It  is  to  be  delivered  May  191 1, 
and  about  800  pages.  Herr  Jessas  I  Why  Richard,  why 
did  you  ever  put  the  bug  of  biography  into  my  belfry? 
You  did  it,  you  with  your  little  "Chopin."     I  owe  you 

one  I  A    T7 

As  hver  j      „ 

Jim  Huneker 

To  Edwin  W.  Morse 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Morse  April  8th,  1909. 

Enclosed  postcard  is  from  Mr.  Michael  Monahan,  the 
very  clever  editor  of  Papyrus,  East  Orange,  N.  J.  His 
name  was  on  that  editorial  list  I  gave  you.  He  hasn't 
"Egoists,"  evidently;  if  it  has  gone  astray  will  you  please 
send  him  another  copy  or  trace  the  first.  Chuck  post- 
card in  your  waste  basket.     The  letter  from  Moref  I 

*  "Egoists:  A  Book  of  Supermen." 

t  Paul  Elmer  More,  at  this  time  editor  of  The  New  York  Nation,  whose  re- 
views and  criticisms  appeared  also  in  The  New  York  Evening  Post. 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  97 

shall  trouble  you  to  return.  I  am  desirous  that  you 
read  ft  for  several  reasons.  Of  course,  you  saw  the 
spread  on  the  Post  editorial  page  last  Tuesday  about 
"Egoists."  I  hope  there  will  be  no  other  notice.  More  is 
kind  as  well  as  modest.  He  knew  enough  to  blow  the 
book  to  hell.  One  more  thing:  You  won't  forget,  will 
you,  if  sheets  are  sent  to  London  to  append  my  little  re- 
quest as  to  not  giving  the  Saturday  Review  a  review 
copy.  "Max"  *is  itching  to  get  a  hack,  so  let  him  buy 
a  copy.  He  gave  the  book  a  preliminary  blast  two  weeks 
ago  that  showed  his  humor.  Pardon  the  bother  I  am 
giving  you.     I  mean  well. 

As  Ever  James  Huneker 

To  John  Quinn 

Mr.  John  Quinn,  Mr.  Huneker's  legal  adviser,  was  also  a  very 
warm  personal  friend,  a  particular  bond  between  them  being  their 
common  interest  in  art,  especially  painting,  of  which  Mr.  Quinn  is  a 
connoisseur  and  collector. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Quinn:  July  9,  1909 

I  did  not  write  sooner  to  thank  you  for  the  two  heads 
— admirably  reproduced,  by  the  way — because  I  awaited 
your  letter.  Its  contents  were  very  pleasing.  Of  course 
I'll  review  the  work,  Yeats  generally,  in  The  Sun,  but  not 
at  once.  I'm  full  of  stuff  for  a  week  or  so.  I  can't  promise 
over  a  column  or  13^  cols.  You  know  The  Sun.  I  thank 
you  for  thinking  of  me  and  if  you  decide  in  my  favor,  I'll 
value  the  edition  (part  of  which  I  saw  at  James  Gregg's) 
very  much.  I  fear  that  neither  The  Post  nor  Tribune  are 
much  for  W.  B.  Y.    I  am,  as  you  know. 

When  you  see  George  Moore  give  him  our  regards 

*  Max  Beerbohm. 


98    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

(Mrs.  Huneker's  and  mine).  Fve  just  had  a  book  from 
him  and  to  my  amazement  I  went  up  in  the  air.  It  is 
"Sister  Teresa"  re-written,  almost  entirely.  The  psy- 
chology is  vastly  improved  and  George  in  his  desert  de- 
scriptions can  give  R.  Hichens  cards  and  spades  for 
being  a  landscapist  (verbal  &c)  He  has  a  sense  of  verbal 
values.  I'm  delighted  and  reread  at  once  the  revised 
"Evelyn"  and  admit  the  scheme  is  much  better  than  in 
the  old  version.  I've  written  to  say  these  things  so 
don't  bother  remembering  them.  Moore  has  a  soft 
place  in  my  heart.  With  Conrad  he  is  the  big  man  to- 
day (Hardy  being  out  of  the  field).  His  humorous  bone 
is  still  inatrophied.  Of  course,  if  Arthur  Symons  is 
well  enough,  give  him,  please,  our  love,  and  to  Rhoda 

also. 

I  wish  you  would,  my  dear  Quinn,  pile  up  my  obliga- 
tions to  you  still  higher,  by  sending  with  the  Yeats  vol- 
umes (if  I  am  to  get  them)  that  George  Moore  novel 
which  I've  never  read,  "A  Mere  Accident";  also  the 
Aubrey  Beardsley  "Tannhauser  &  Venus"  (Under  the 
Hill)  which  I  caught  a  glimpse  of.  I  wish  to  read  the 
Moore  from  curiosity;  the  Beardsley  may  improve  my 
moral  temperature !  I  promise  to  take  care  of  both  and 
will  return  them  in  a  week— if  your  apartment  is  to  re- 
main open.  And  where  pray  shall  I  send'  you  the  Yeats 
review;  to  your  office,  or  to  the  publisher?  Lucky  man 
to  get  away  and  cross  the  seas ! 
Au  revoir 

As  Ever  Yours 

James  Huneker 


TO  EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  99 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  °^'  ^^^  '  ^^^* 

In  addition  to  thanking  you  for  your  charming  letter 
of  the  17th  I  wish  to  explain  that  by  "pound  of  flesh'*  I 
meant  to  express  through  a  common  image  my  indubita- 
ble indebtedness  to  The  Sun.  I  did  not  mean  it  in  the 
sense  of  The  Sun  as  a  merciless  Shylock,  etc.,  extorting 
the  last  ounce  from  me.  On  the  contrary  I  think  the 
case  was  reversed.  You  responded  to  my  wishes  so  will- 
ingly that  I  feel  I  can't  write  enough  to  make  the  bal- 
ances even.  When  I  rather  peevishly — the  other  day — 
said  to  you  that  the  trip  was  a  failure,  I  was  not  alto- 
gether truthful  or  fair.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  one  be- 
cause of  the  swift  pace,  the  awkward  places  to  write  in, 
etc;  all  the  impedimenta  travelers  must  expect;  but  it 
was,  I  hope  a  fruitful  Journey.  I  learned  lots,  even  if 
my  readers  did  not.  I'm  afraid,  thus  far  to  read  the 
printed  stories,  I  fear  they  were  too  hastily  observed,  too 
hastily  written.  But  that's  to  be  expected.  At  least 
they  are — not  always  a  saving  clause,  however, — sincere. 
The  "Greco,'*  I  wrote  and  almost  finished  in  Madrid;  it 
will  reach  you.  next  week.  The  "Velasquez,"  for  which 
I  took  abundant  notes,  I'll  write  the  week  after  in  plenty 
of  time  to  top  off  the  series  of  20.  If  I  am  still  shy  of  the 
allotted  space  I'll  fill  it  out.  I  have  lots  of  stuff  up  my 
sleeve.    Thanks  again. 

Sincerely  t  tt 

James  Huneker 


1910 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 

The  CarroIIton 

Jan.  29/1910 
Dear  Mr.  Brownell 

Fancy  my  consternation  on  my  return  from  Philadel- 
phia today  (where  I  had  been  looking  at  various  explo- 
sions in  paint  in  the  Pennsylvania  Academy)  to  find  the 
page  proofs  of  "Promenades"  (two  bags  full)  and  to  see 
that  the  printer  quite  without  warrant  had  headed  every 
other  page,  "Impressionists"  I  It  should  be  "Prome- 
nades." The  volume  is  not  a  book  on  Impressionists 
(Botticelli,  and  the  rest  are  not  impressionists)  but  the 
Promenades  of  an  Impressionist!  Quite  a  distinction. 
Please  stop  the  make-up  man  from  using  the  word  "Im- 
pressionists." I've  substituted  "Promenades"  on  the 
pages  thus  far  sent  me.  You  will,  of  course,  see  the  pro- 
priety of  this  change.  Indeed,  it  is  imperative,  else  the 
character  of  the  volume  is  changed.  Hundreds  of  paint- 
ers are  considered  who  are  not  impressionists.  Excuse 
my  indignation — which  is  more  than  academic.  The  rea- 
son is  this.  With  the  "Egoists"  it  was  the  same.  When 
the  galleys  reached  me  headed  "The  Egoist"  I  remon- 
strated. But  I  was  told  it  was  only  a  catch  line,  or 
catch  title,  something  purely  technical.  Nevertheless 
this  Meredithan  title  got  on  the  page  proofs  and  crept 
into  a  prehminary  announcement.  In  London  I  was 
made  merry  over  because  of  my  law  of  virginality.  Fur- 
thermore, there  are  a  100  books  entitled  "Impression- 
ists" etc.  and  only  two  called  "Promenades" — Stendhal 
and  de  Gourmont's.     The  iteration  every  alternate  i>age 


100 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  loi 

will  soon  give  "Promenades"  the  title  of  "impression- 
ists." I'm  so  annoyed  that  I  have  a  mind  to  cut  the 
original  title  to  plain  "Promenades."  Will  you  please, 
lieber  Freund,  see  to  this.  I'll  be  greatly  obliged.  It's 
quite  a  tempest  in  an  inkwell.  Yours  in  despair  but 
able  to  sit  up  and  take  his  food — 

James  Huneker 


To  John  Quinn 

The  book  by  Arthur  Symons  referred  to,  entitled  "London:  A  Book 
of  Aspects,"  was  privately  published  by  Mr.  Edmund  Brooks  of 
Minnesota. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Quinn:  ^''"-  '*■  '9'° 

The  book  arrived  with  the  card  of  Mr.  Brooks.  It 
was  exceedingly  kind  of  you  to  suggest  sending  it  to  me. 
As  there  is  no  address  on  the  card  please  thank  the  pub- 
lisher for  me  when  you  happen  to  write  him.  I  read  the 
essay;  as  you  say  one  of  Symons'  best.  It  seems  to 
have  assembled  in  it  his  chief  characteristics — plangency 
yet  simplicity  of  style,  sharpness  of  vision  and  a  general 
atmosphere  of  beauty  and,  withal,  a  human  quality. 
He  must  have  written  it  some  years  ago.  What  puzzles 
me  is — his  health.  Rhoda  the  black  panther,  writes  in 
a  hopeless  way,  nevertheless  I  hear  that  Arthur  is  much 
seen  and  is,  apparently,  improving.  What  is  the  truth 
in  all  these  confusing  appearances !  How  is  Gregg ! 
Like  a  voice  from  the  grave,  after  many  weeks  the  lad 
spoke  to  me  on  Friday.  He  has  sedulously  absented 
himself  from  my  paths.  Is  he  sick?  Or  married!  Or 
reformed !    Don't  bother  telling  me.     I'll  run  him  to 

^^^-  As  Ever         j^mes  Huneker 


102    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Edwara  C.  Marsh 

At  the  time  this  letter  was  written  Mr.  Marsh  was  associated  with 
the  Macmillan  Co.,  publishers. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Marsh:  May  ist,  1910 

Thanks  for  the  Nietzsche  books — for  I  fancy  it  is  to 
you  I  owe  the  pleasure.  (Naturally  your  house,  too) 
Strangely  enough  coincident  with  their  arrival  came  a 
letter  from  Dr.  Oscar  B.  Levy*  of  London  telling  me  of 
his  scheme  &c.  He  is  a  bird!  Did  you  read  his  "Re- 
vival of  Aristocracy"  written  some  years  ago?  It  out- 
Nietzsches  Nietzsche.  I  dipped  into  several  of  the  vol- 
umes. The  Ludovicif  is  quite  idiomatic.  You  remem- 
ber that  the  earlier  translations  were  frightfully  botched: 
a  language  that  was  neither  German  nor  Enghsh.  Alas ! 
poor  Nietzsche — and  his  German  is  so  swift  and  crystal- 
line. 

I'll  write  a  special  story  of  the  edition,  if  not  for  The 
Sun  (which  is  not  likely  as  they  are  sick  of  N's  name)  at 
least  for  some  magazine.  But  not  at  present.  I'll  wait 
until  later  volumes  appear  (a  hint !  a  hint !  hoping  to  get 
them). 

I  say,  Marsh,  I  owe  you  a  luncheon.  Can't  we  meet 
some  Saturday  and  go  to  the  Lafayette?  The  after- 
noons are  long  now-a-days  and  the  Pilsner  ought  to  be 
at  its  amber  best.  .     p 

James  Huneker 

*  Doctor  Oscar  Levy,  editor  of  an  English  translation  of  Nietzsche's  works, 
published  by  Foulis,  London,  and  The  Macmillan  Company,  New  York. 
t  The  translator  of  a  number  of  Nietzsche's  works. 


TO  EDWARD  C  MARSH  103 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

Mr.  Marsh  had  just  sent  G.  Archdall  Reid's  work  on  " Heredity'* 
to  Mr.  Huneker  in  the  idea  that  if  it  interested  him  he  would  review  it. 

The  CarroIIton 

_  -  .  June  17,  1910 

Dear  Marsh: 

Thanks  for  the  "Heredity"  volume.  I  peeped  into  it 
yesterday  to  the  extent  of  several  hundred  pages  and  it 
tastes  good.  The  metaphysics  is  sound,  and  I  fancy 
the  biology  sounder. 

My  conscience  reproached  about  Saturday,  but  selfish 
like,  I  enjoyed  myself  so  much  that  I  fancied  you,  too, 
must  be  in  the  same  boat.  I  forgot  that  your  nerves 
were  suffering  from  the  strain  of  travel,  grief  and  anxie- 
ties. However,  your  letter  relieved  me.  Tm  glad  you 
liked  the  Nietzsche  review,  though  I  confess  abusing  the 
"Nietzscheans"  is  hardly  the  way  to  make  propaganda. 

I  hope  to  do  the  Heredity  next  week.  Saw  Ned  [Zieg- 
ler]  Monday.  He  is  looking  well  and  feeling  so  happy 
that  he  actually  accused  me  of  grouchiness  in  that  series 
of  sweet  tempered  pastels  in  prosiness ! 

Au  revoir  as  ever 
James  Huneker 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

Confidential.  <  ^ 

The  CarroIIton 

r^  ...  June  28,  iQio 

Dear  Marsh:  ^ 

The  books  came,  saw  and  conquered.     I'll  do  them, 

with  the  "Heredity,"*  as  soon  as  I  can.     But  not  the 

Pater.     Strangely  enough  I  had  been  thinking  of  your 

*  "Laws  of  Heredity,"  by  Sir  Archdall  Reid. 


104    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

new  Pater  edition*  and  literally  lusting  after  it.  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  that  as  soon  as  that  "Heredity"  book 
was  out  of  the  way  I  should  write  you  regarding  a  Pater 
story.  Isn't  one  possible?  Not  so  long,  for  example,  as 
the  review  in  last  Sunday's  issue  of  "The  New  Laokoon."  f 
(Did  you  see  it?)  But  something  commensurate  with 
the  dignity  and  beauty  of  the  theme.  I've  never  been 
satisfied  with  my  Ivory  Tower  Pater  in  "Egoists"  and 
long  to  do  a  new  one;  in  a  word  to  reread  him  from  top 
to  bottom.  (In  the  Macmillan  edition)  Is  it  feasible? 
It  would  make  a  fine  spread.  "The  New  Walter  Pater" 
etc.  What  do  you  say?  And  did  I  have  copy  in  last 
Sunday's  paper?    Touch  wood  with  me! 

As  ever  with  thanks 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

The  CarroIIton 

July  I,  1910 

Dear  Marsh: 

It  is  just  2:30  A.  M.,  and  a  fine,  breezy  morning.  (This 
sounds  like  Vance  Thompson,  but  it's  a  fact.)  My  Sun- 
day stufiF  is  finished  and  I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  thank 
you  for  your  cordial  letter.  Let  me  answer  it  categori- 
cally. 

I  St.  I  got  no  "  Racowitza"  {  in  English.  Is  there  such  a 
book,  and  was  a  copy  sent  me  by  you?  I  shouldn't  have 
written  that  idiotic  advice  to  "translate"  the  volume, 
otherwise. 

2nd.     No,  I  refuse  to  write  all  the  paper. 

*  Large  paper  edition  of  Pater,  published  by  The  Macmillan  Company,  1910. 

t  By  Irving  Babbitt. 

X  "Helene  Von  Racowitza." 


TD  EDWARD  C.  MARSH  105 

3rd.  Your  flair  did  not  fail  you.  The  book,*  etc.,  is 
eesthetic  punk.  The  review  is  as  dry  as  a  herring  bone 
and  my  contemporary  throat.  (Pause  as  the  fat  writer 
sips  ambrosia  from  a  bottle;  $1.25  per  case  of  24,  Mil- 
waukee Pabst,  blond.)  English  and  American  writers 
may  be  divided  like  Caesar's  Gaul  in  three  divisions: 
piffle,  punk   and   bull.     The   latter  is  Jack  London's 

**note";  C hits  the  first,  and  the  second  is  the  most 

universal  quality  of  the  three.  I've  reached  at  various 
epochs  all  three  stadia. 

4th.  I  like  the  heat  because  I  never  go  out  unless  to 
the  Turkish  bath  or  to  get  shaved. 

5th.  The  original  of  that  crazy  paint  sketch  is  alive 
and  well  known.  If,  for  example,  I  had  said  "Albert  P. 
Ryder,"  instead  of  "Arne  Saknussemm"  (see  "A  Jour- 
ney to  the  Centre  of  the  Earth"  by  Jules  Verne)  no  one 
would  have  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  the  panegyric. 
I've  had,  rather  The  Sun  has  received,  a  hundred  letters 
asking  who  in  hell  was  A.  S.  and  for  his  address.  It  is 
to  smile. 

6th  and  last.  I'm  not  going  away,  that  is  until  Sep- 
tember, and  then  only — need  I  add  ! — if  I  have  the  price. 
Money  is  damnably  tight  this  summer.  I  wish  I  were. 
The  "Pilsner"  coda  to  your  note  is  interesting.  I'm  do- 
ing a  Brahms  volume — piano  music — with  Joseffy  (he 
visits  me  this  afternoon  to  arrange  preliminaries)  for  the 
Ditsons  (like  my  two  Chopin,  and  one  Brahms  (Lyrics) 
albums).  It  must  be  written  July  4th,  about  5000 
words,  as  I  have  no  other  day  left.  Think  of  me  if  the 
day  is  hot  and  noisy.  When  that  Job  is  off  the  books 
ril  drop  you  a  note — say  end  of  next  week.     Pilsner  and 

•  A  book  then  recently  published,  purporting  to  lay  down  the  fundamental 
principles  of  the  arts. 


io6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

conversation  (the  lost  art  of  H.  Krans).  How  many  **  Pa- 
ters" are  actually  out?*  I  needn't  wait  till  the  last  vol- 
ume. But  don't  bother.  Reading  this  will  suffice  for  a 
week  of  bother.  c-         t 

2'"=^"""'^         James  Honekkr 


To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Friday,  July  29/10 
Hot  Cross  Bun  Day  (but  no  bun) 

Dear  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Have  made  note  of  the  new  address.  Glad  it  is  further 
away  from  Jacks.  Was  there  last  Sunday  morn;  saw 
your  old  side  partner  of  the  foreign  wires.  Where  were 
you?  Joels?  I  read  in  hot  weather  only  "Imitation  of 
Christ,"  Bunyan  and  Roosevelt.  I  thus  keep  cool.  Do 
ye  the  same.  When  is  a — the — book  (for  you'll  only 
write  the  one)  to  appear !  I'm  pegging  away  like  a  bour- 
geois cobbler.  I  hate  the  town  in  winter — but,  Dio 
mio !  in  Summer  it's  the  limit.  Did  you  guess  the  list  of 
artistic  rum  mills?  The  Uffizi  is  3rd  Ave.  above  86th 
St.,  in  English  "The  Office."  ^^  g^^^. 

*'A  new  edition  of  the  works  of  Walter  Pater  then  in  process  of  publication  by 
The  Macmillan  Company. 


1911 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  comments  on  the  length  of  contributions  in  this  letter  were 
called  forth  by  the  fact  that  The  Sun  paid  its  contributors  according 
to  what  is  known  as  a  "space  rate" — so  much  a  column. 

The  CarroIIton, 

T^  i^/r         TV  r  J^^-   ^2,   191 1. 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell 

My  contributions  to  The  Sun  during  the  past  week 
were:  Sunday,  Jan.  8th,  "Seen  in  the  World  of  Art" 
(page  4,  section  3)  Thursday,  Jan.  12th,  "Around  the 
Galleries"  (editorial  page)  (almost  4  cols.  lacking  a  frac- 
tion) . 

At  the  risk  of  becoming  a  nuisance  I  beg  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  measurements  of  enclosed  copy — last 
week's.  I  received  for  the  same  a  cheque  of  $125.00, 
which  does  not  quite  tally  with  the  number  of  columns. 
I  measure,  with  an  ordinary  ruler  on  the  basis  of  21 
inches  to  the  column,  4  inches  over  the  5  columns,  and 
while  it  hardly  amounts  to  more  than  $5.00,  it  might  as 
well  be  rectified  (unless  I  have  made  an  error).  I  fancy 
the  mistake  arises  in  the  measurement  of  that  Sunday 
section  3,  copy,  which  usually  ends  where  the  Art  Notes 
begin. 

ril  see  the  Laffan  pictures  Saturday  and  send  down  a 

column  early  in  the  week.     I  have  my  misgivings,  Mr. 

Mitchell,  as  to  the  financial  outcome  of  the  sale — never 

has  picture  selling  been  at  a  lower  ebb.     To  whisper  in 

107 


io8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

your  ear — the sale,  so  I  learn  from  a  good  source, 

was  nil;  not  a  canvas  was  sold;  all  was  bid  in  and  re- 
turned to  Philadelphia.  I  suspect,  too,  the collec- 
tion— it  is  full  of  dealer's  pictures.  But  I  hope  for  the 
best  in  re  the  L.  Collection.  Again  I  apologize  for  troub- 
ling you  in  my  picayune  money  matters. 

Sincerely  as  ever 
James  Huneker, 

P.  S.  That  Romney  book,  the  review  which  I  sent 
you  last  week,  is  the  best  of  its  kind  that  has  thus  far 
appeared. 

To  Theodore  Presser 

Theodore  Presser,  president  of  the  Theodore  Presser  Co.,  music 
publishers  and  importers  of  Philadelphia,  was  greatly  interested  in 
Mr.  Huneker's  writings,  and  published  many  of  his  essays,  including 
those  which  compose  his  volume  "Old  Fogy,"  in  The  Etude. 

The  CarroIIton 
_  _  April  20,  191 1 

Dear  Theodore: 

Enclosed  appeared  on  editorial  page  Sun  last  Sunday.  I 
wrote  it.  It  will  appear  in  my  "Liszt"  book  somewhere. 
(The  infernal  work  will  keep  me  in  hot  New  York  all 
Summer  reading  proofs.)  I  send  it  to  you  in  case  you 
would  like  to  reprint  it  in  The  Etude — with  my  compli- 
ments— crediting  it  to  The  Sun  and  to  me.  The  subject 
matter  is  free  from  objectionable  insinuations;  indeed, 
while  I  am  not  endeavoring  to  paint  Liszt  an  angel,  I 
don't  believe  that  he  was  a  glorified  goat  chasing,  with 
horns  lowered,  every  lady  goat  in  Germany.  There's 
been  too  much  of  that  sort  of  thing  in  his  biographies. 
Wagner  was  thrice  as  immoral.     But  Liszt  has^to  bear 


TO  EDWARD  P.  MITCHELL  109 

the  brunt  of  the  game.  If  you  can't  use  the  slip  send  it 
back  in  an  envelope.  I'll  pay  the  postage  freight  when 
my  ship  comes  home — some  day  I 

I'm  sorry  I  couldn't  get  in  last  February  to  see  you, 
but  hope  that  when  I  next  go  to  Philadelphia  I'll  catch 
you.  I  had  the  Academy  exhibition  to  "cover,"  and  a 
show  at  my  brother  John's  club.  The  Art  Club.  "The 
Old  Fogy"  is  tempting,  yet  with  my  daily  stint  of  work 
on  The  Sun's  editorial  page,  my  weekly  department  "Seen 
in  the  World  of  Art"  not  to  mention  this  diabolical 
"Liszt," — when  could  I  have  a  minute  for  you?  I'm 
sorry.  Another  point — I  miss  the  stimmung.  I  go  so  sel- 
dom to  concerts  or  opera.  However,  I'll  talk  it  over  with 
you,  and  as  I  hope  to  go  to  Germany  about  the  middle  of 
August — to  study  North  German  Art  and  to  attend  at 
least  one  Liszt  Festival  (Heidelberg,  Oct.  22)  I  may  be 
able  to  recapture  the  old  fogy  spirit. 

With  regards  and  best  wishes, 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  ^"  ^°*  ^^^ 

The  La  Farge  volume  at  hand,  for  which  many  thanks. 
I  skimmed  it  last  night;  it  is  a  work  of  pietdt  on  the  part 
of  Cortissoz,  and  brilliant  and  interesting;  yet  I  am  not 
convinced  that  La  Farge  was  a  master!  He  was  too 
theorized,  talked  too  much — the  amateur  par  excellence. 
However  that  will  not  enter  into  my  review  of  the  book; 
I'll  send  down  Wednesday  or  Thursday  a  column,  I  don't 
think  it  warrants  much  more. 

I  hope  you  are  well.     I  hope  you  will  go  away  this 


no    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

year — a  new  country  makes  new  patterns  in  one's  brain, 
and  my  dear  Mr.  Mitchell  does  anything  endure !  Those 
neurotic  filaments  which  weave  for  humanity  its  picture 
of  the  external  world — which  may  be  something  alto- 
gether different  from  our  cerebral  presentations — are  as 
fickle  as  the  wind.  In  my  declining  years,  you  see,  I've 
become,  not  a  skeptic,  but  a  straddler  on  the  fence  of  the 
Perhaps.  I  shall  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  on 
you  at  the  office  as  soon  as  I  hand  to  my  publishers  some 
150,000  words  of  a  horrible  manuscript  concerned  with 
the  doings  of  one,  Franz  Liszt. 

Sincerely  As  Ever 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Marsh: 

First  let  me  ask  your  pardon  for  not  answering  your 
letter,  and  secondly,  let  me  thank  you  for  the  Fletcher 
"Book  of  Beauty."  I  haven't  had  time  to  read  it  and  I 
was  so  upset  getting  my  material  ready  for  that  damned 
Liszt  introduction  that  I  did  nothing  all  week  except 
potter  at  my  notes  and — incidentally  because  I  had  to — 
write  6  columns  for  today's  Sun — leader  in  the  book  page, 
regular  art  department,  and  a  column  editorial.  Yes- 
terday after  6  hours  of  concentrated  agony  I  finished 
6000  words.  Only  6000 !  But  25  years  of  work  behind 
them.  I'm  not  crying  for  sympathy  but,  really,  Marsh 
you  ought  to  buy  me  a  drink  for  my  courage.  As  the 
Germans  have  it — when  I  see  the  name  of  Liszt  "it  is 
to  puke!"  (es  ist  zum  kutzenl)  Now,  did  you  say  last 
Saturday  or  next  for  that  triangular  luncheon?     I'm 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  m 


your  man  for  next  Sat.  at  the  Brevoort,  or  the  Grand 
Union,  or  where  you  will,  and  if  Ned  Z.  can  be  persuaded, 
all  the  jollier.  Let  me  know  if  the  date  suits  you.  By 
the  way,  now  since  the  incubus  is  off  my  chest  I'm  going 
at  that  Pater  story  for  June,  sometime,  I  have  9  out  of 
the  10  volumes,  the  one  I  didn't  get  is  "Miscellaneous 
Studies."  But  if  you  can't  arrange  it  let  the  matter 
drop.  A    p 

^    ^^^       James  Huneker 

To  John  Quinn 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  John:  June  ist,  191  i 

I  am  glad  to  hear  from  you.  And  the  John  criticism  of 
Picasso  was  very  aware — as  they  say  in  London  aesthetic 
circles.  I've  been  nowhere,  written  no  one  of  late — not 
even  James  Gregg — as  I  am  on  the  anxious  bench  with 
my  Liszt  book.  It  was  settled  yesterday  that  the  first 
chapter — rather,  introduction — is  to  appear  in  Scribner's 
Magazine  for  Oct.  or  Nov.;  but  the  chief  thing  hasn't 
been  pulled-off.  I  mean  my  deal  with  the  firm  as  regards 
royalties,  advance  cash  &c.  I'm  hoping  if  all  goes  my 
way  we  shall  be  able  to  go  to  Germany  in  August.  But 
here  must  I  remain  until  I  read  proofs  and  that  means 
at  least  as  late  as  August  15th.  Not  a  pleasing  prospect 
— quoi?  I  write  these  details  (which  are  burrowing  mag- 
got-like in  my  skull)  because  I  hope  to  be  clear  of  them 
all  within  a  week  or  10  days  and  then  by  Jupiter  Tonans 
I'll  be  glad  to  say  "yes"  to  that  dinner  invitation.  So 
will  Mrs.  Huneker.  I  want  to  look  over  the  Quinn  pic- 
tures again,  anyhow.  How  does  the  Manet  last?  I  still 
crave  the  "Au  Cafe"  (which  is  in  storage  here)  or  that 
superb  Greco,  upstairs  at  Durand-Ruels.     Did  you  buy 


112    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

the  Dowson  letters,  or  that  ist  edition  of  Wilde's  Poems 

— with  his  dedication  to  his  mother  in  his  handwriting? 

I  told  Harzof  on  59th  St.  to  send  both  to  you.     I'll  write 

next  week.     And  I'm  going  to  hunt  J.  Gregg  up. 

As  Ever        ,  tt 

James  Huneker 

My  brother,  John  Huneker,  of  Philadelphia  sailed  this 
morning  on  the  "Cleveland"  and  I  confess  I  felt  home- 
sick for  Europe — for  good  old  German  beer  and  cheer. 


To  Frederick  James  Gregg 

The  following  essay  on  Beer,  one  of  the  most  characteristic  things 
that  James  Huneker  ever  wrote,  was  the  result  of  a  visit  which  he 
paid,  with  Frederick  James  Gregg,  to  the  establishment  which  is 
commemorated.  It  was  enclosed  as  part  of  a  letter  to  Mr.  Gregg 
who  was  then  one  of  the  editors  of  The  Evening  Sun.  He  asked 
Huneker  for  permission  to  print  it  as  "a  letter  to  the  Editor"  and 
it  was  prepared  for  that  purpose  by  the  writer. 

New  York, 
«  June  19,  191 1. 

oir: 

While  the  political  heathen"  is  raging  mightily  through- 
out the  land  let  us  heed  the  still  small  voice  of  Dr.  Lyman 
Abbott,  who  has  dared  to  say  and  in  a  city  where  lives 
"Mike  the  Mouquineer" !  that  for  him  the  domestic 
brew  is  as  naught;  only  in  Germany  does  he  sip  with  joy 
the  amber.  Now  isn't  this  a  bit  arbitrary  I  I  do  not  speak 
in  defence  of  American  beer,  I  never  drink  it,  simply  be- 
cause I  don't  like  it;  also  because  it  is  kept  so  barbarously 
cold.  Beer  is  not  alone  a  beverage,  beer  is  food.  It  must 
be  digested.  Fancy  taking  into  your  stomach  ice-cold 
soup  I  Yet  that  is  what  the  American  nation  practically 
does  every  day  and  night — it  swallows,  gulps,  absorbs  its 


TO  W.  C.  BROWNELL  113 


beer  ice-cold.  And  in  few  resorts  where  imported  beer  is 
sold  is  the  stuff  kept  as  it  should  be.  Luckily  good  (but 
not  old)  Dr.  Knirim  is  practicing  here  the  gentle  art  of 
serving  Pilsner  without  spoiling  the  coat  of  one's  stom- 
ach. His  Pilsner  Sanatorium  (not  many  miles  away  from 
the  cotton  and  coffee  exchanges)  boasts  a  distinguished 
number  of  patients,  who  daily  drink  at  a  moderate  tem- 
perature and  also  tempo — the  Doctor  is  strict  as  to 
tempo,  for  him  always  andante — Pilsner  that  must  come 
from  Walhalla,  so  velvety  and  mellow  and  soothing  is  it. 
Without  a  license  from  the  County  medical  association 
does  this  worthy  German-American  practice  the  art  of 
curing;  indeed,  it  would  do  the  aforesaid  association  good 
to  drop  in  at  the  "Doctor's"  and  follow  his  advice:  "don't 
take  pills,  take  Pilsner."  The  people  with  sick  nerves, 
sick  stomachs  and  hob-nail  livers  are  ordered  to  go  on  a 
Pilsner  regime.  Rheumatic  and  gouty  persons  are  for- 
bidden wine  and  spirits,  but  allowed,  in  moderation,  Pils- 
ner. I  remember  at  Marienbad  even  the  fat  man  is  given 
his  fixed  quantity  of  Pilsner  per  diem.  Eat  slowly,  drink 
slowly — Pilsner — and  don't  cut  your  throat  to  spite  your 
thirst !  We  recommend  to  Dr.  Abbott  a  kur  at  the  famous 
Pilsner  Sanatorium — where  the  cheese  is  as  wonderful  as 

the  beer. 

Jim  the  Penman. 

To  W,  C.  Brownell 

The  CarroIIton 

981  Madison  Ave. 

Dear  Mr.  Brownell:  July28,  1911 

Please  don't  think  that  I  am  so  fatuously  selfish— all 
book  producers  are  said  to  be  so — that  I  can't  appreciate 
your  torture  during  such  a  summer  reading  proof.     I 


114    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

have  groaned  at  the  picture  of  you  and  the  numerous 
pages  about  Liszt — stupid,  hifalutin,  inutile.  Musical 
books  are  always  horrible.  And  the  enthusiasms  of  the 
50S — it  is  appalling.  You  will,  I  hope,  enjoy  your  vaca- 
tion. You  deserve  it.  I  only  regret  that  I  can't  see  you 
before  you  go,  but  I  suppose  you  won't  be  at  the  *shop' 
on  Monday  and  today  from  1 2  to  5  p.  m.  Therefore  I 
am  about  to  inflict  upon  you  a  letter,  ist  I  didn't  know 
there  was  to  be  an  index.  I  loathe  indexes.  They're  for 
"Iconoclasts."  However,  if  you  think  it  a  necessity  it 
"goes."  As  to  the  dates:  I  have  finally  decided  to  go,  if 
not  the  19th  of  August,  then  the  26th.  The  book  is  of 
more  importance  than  my  ease.  And  those  pictures ! 
What  a  job !  The  cover  question  is  easy  in  comparison. 
Therefore  I  shan't  think  of  the  flight  into  the  blue  until 
the  last  page  proof,  the  pictures,  &c  are  passed  upon; 
indeed,  I'll  wait  a  week  later  for  fear  of  just  such  ques- 
tions arising  as  in  the  enclosed  proof.  There  was  no  ne- 
cessity to  change  the  sentence:  "impersonated  a  part"  is 
assuredly  tautological,  nevertheless  a  favorite  cliche  in 
dramatic  "criticism."  I  made  the  change  to  "assumed 
the  role";  and  also  changed  into  French,  the  clumsy  Ger- 
man: "le  concert  c'est  moi."  It  is,  at  least,  more  eupho- 
nious. Naturally,  I'm  sorry  you're  going  away,  but  I'll 
be  content  with  lesser  lights.  You've  done  a  lot  for  the 
amorphous  monster  of  a  book.  Oh !  while  I  think  of  it, 
I  suspected  an  underestimate.  I  counted  about  140,000 
words,  though  I  was  by  no  means  sure.  If  the  book  is 
too  long  why  not  drop  that  last  chapter,  "Mosaic** ! !  It 
would  save  a  few  thousand  words.  However,  that  is  not 
much.  Another  thing,  to  whom  am  I  to  apply  for  advice 
&c.  when  you  leave? 

For  my  sins  I  had  to  review  a  new  book  about  Liszt  in 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  115 

this  morning's  Sun.  They  are  beginning !  As  for  the 
advance  notices  of  my  machine — I  get  them  daily  in  my 
press-clippings  from  over  the  country. 

Yes,  Gericault  still  exists.  I  saw  the  Raft  in  1909, 
rather  a  cadaverous  affair,  but  what  stolidity !  What 
fougue !  I'm  only  marking  time  in  the  art  department 
this  summer.  Hence  the  biographical  form  of  the  copy. 
I  hope,  my  dear  Mr.  Brownell,  to  see  you  early  Decem- 
ber, perhaps  late  November,  in  your  old  accustomed 
form.  I  shall  write — or  discourse,  or  gossip — about  Ger- 
man Art  (horrid  stuff  for  the  most  part)  from  Cologne  to 
Frankfort,  thence  to  Dresden,  Munich,  Prague,  Vienna, 
Budapest — at  the  latter  jewel  of  a  city  I  hope  to  attend 
the  Liszt  Festival  Oct.  22nd,  191 1 — Eljen!  And  write  all 
these  things  for  the  suffering  Sun.     Pray  for  me;  rather 

ora  pro  nobis!     c>.  t 

bmcerely  as  ever,       j  tt 

'^  James  Huneker 

W.  C.  Brownell,  Esq. 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

•r>v  /-»  Cassel,  Germany,  den  Sep.  27,  ion 

Dear  Charlie: 

We  are  here  since  a  week  because  I'm  ill  and  cannot 
move  very  well.  I'm  writing  a  line — and  rotten  writing 
it  is — to  tell  you  our  plans  are  all  a-sea  since  I  fell  and 
hurt  my  side  in  Coin  10  days  ago.  We  arrived  from 
Bruges  at  midnight  and  you  know  the  Cologne  station  is 
not  well  lighted.  Then  the  usual  idiotic  Trdger  placed 
carefully  a  bunch  of  hand  baggage  precisely  where  the 
passengers  alighted  from  the  train,  and  luckily  I  was 
first  out  and  not  Mrs.  Huneker.  A  tumble  for  her  might 
have  proved  tragic.  As  it  was  I  had  a  terrific  fall,  smash- 
ing my  ribs  against  the  hasps,  locks,  knobs,  spikes  and 


ii6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


other  protuberances  of  the  hideous  small  trunks  the 
damned  economical  Germans  carry  into  the  railway 
carriages  here.  I  was  picked  up,  a  collapsed  balloon, 
the  wind  knocked  clear  out  of  me,  and  my  side — the 
left  stove  in,  as  I  thought.  I  told  Jozia  afterwards  that 
it  was  the  first  time  I  broke  my  heart  since  I  met  her. 
At  the  hotel — a  bully  one,  new,  the  Excelsior,  I  was  put 
in  a  hot  bath,  then  in  bed  and  a  doctor  sent  for. 

He  was  a  sensible  German  and  gave  me  a  thorough 
overhauling.  Not  a  rib  broken,  no  fractures  and  we  hope, 
Kein  innere  verletzung;  but  a  bad  lot  of  contusions,  a 
nerve  lesion,  and  a  bad  nervous  shock.  I  couldn't  draw 
a  full  breath  for  a  week  and  my  left  arm  is  out  of  busi- 
ness. With  difficulty  we  came  down  here,  the  loveliest 
Summer  city  in  Germany,  the  air  balmy  as  in  Italy  and 
not  so  noisy  as  Cologne.  The  picture  gallery  is  rare. 
But  my  plans  are  off".  I  can't  go  to  Munich,  while  Vienna 
or  Budapest  are  out  of  the  question.  I'll  go  on  to  Frank- 
fort, stop  there  a  week,  then  up  to  Dresden,  stopping 
there,  finally  Berlin,  Hamburg  and  home.  I  sleep  badly, 
can't  eat  and  the  doctor  has  forbidden  coff"ee,  about  the 
only  thing  I  craved.  For  once  old  Pilsner  (damn  the 
luck  I  can't  spell  it  right !  *)  is  not  trump  of  thirst.  Good 
old  Doc  Ibsen — such  is  his  name — ordered  Pilsner.  Or- 
dinarily I  would  have  fallen  on  his  neck  and  embraced 
him  gratefully.  But  nothing  matters,  my  trip  is  spoiled, 
poor  Jozia  is  worn  out  with  anxiety  and  my  wretched 
irritability — I'm  a  poor  invalid,  as  you  know,  and  may 
the  devil  take  the  hindmost.  However,  as  these  black- 
blue  devils  won't  last  forever,  I  hope  to  be  in  trim  when 
we  meet  in  Berhn  next  month  some  time.  I  think  I 
told  you  Von  Sachs  decided  that  as  Budapest  was  nearer 

*  The  original  letter  showed  several  false  starts  on  the  word. 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  117 

Vienna  than  was  Heidelberg  he  would  cover  the  Lisztfest 
there  Oct.  22nd  next  for  the  Sun  leaving  the  latter  affair 
for  me.  I  doubt  if  after  reaching  Berlin  I  can  travel  down 
so  far  again;  travel  has  been  very  irksome  to  us  this 
trip.  The  disappointment  of  finding  Belgium  hotter, 
noisier  and  with  more  mosquitoes  than  New  York  was 
climaxed  by  my  stupid  mishap.  I  don't  feel  well,  Karl, 
and  there's  no  denying  I  got  a  rough  tumble.  The  doctor 
said  it  would  have  killed  a  less  burly  bull  than  myself. 
All's  well  that  end's  well.  I'm  alive  and  athirst  and  I'll 
be  more  cheerful  when  I  see  you  both.  I  reread  your 
letter  with  pleasure.  You  could  write  veritable  rem- 
iniscences of  the  old  and  great  days  on  The  Sun  when 
Dana  was  Lord  of  the  Machine.  Why  don't  you?  Regards 

from  the  Missus  to  Mrs.  Rosebault.       *    ,-. 

^  Ever       j,^ 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

Elite-Hotel 

(your  bill  works  while  you  sleep) 

Berlin  N.  W. 

_  _,  Monday  Oct.  g,  19 11 

LiEBER  Karl: 

I'm  very  sorry  I  distressed  you  both,  rather  alarmed 
you;  but  being  a  large,  fat  selfish  person  hitherto  immune 
from  pain — as  I  fancied — I,  naturally,  after  the  manner 
of  such,  howled  when  hurt.  But  your  letters  were  reve- 
lations of  kindly  feeling  and  literally  consoled  me  for  my 
pain.  I'm  deeply  obliged  for  your  ofi'er  and  I  am  glad 
you  did  not  come  up  to  Cassel  which,  lovely  as  it  is — 
and  I  can  conceive  of  no  finer  Summer  city — would  have 
been  a  poor  substitute  for  Vienna  (which  I  don't  mind 
confessing  beats  Berlin  for  beauty,  comfort  and  gemiith- 
lichkeit,  hands  down).     We  went  down  to  Frankfort  and 


ii8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


fell  in  love  with  the  place — but  not  the  hotel  prices.     But 
Darmstadt  is  only  28  minutes  distant  and  we  were  lucky 
enough  to  see  the  Holbein  Madonna  (the  so-called  Meyer- 
Holbein)  in  the  Archducal  Schloss — the  owners  being  ab- 
sent.    After  10  days  we  came  here  and  are  in  this  newly 
renovated  hotel  (25  mks  a  day  for  room  &  bath !)     How 
long  we  may  stay  I  can't  say  for  the  simple  reason  that 
we  can't  get  a  steamer  Just  now;  every  thing  loaded  to 
the  gunwale.     As  soon  as  I  can  get  a  cabin  off  we  go — 
two  disappointed  folk.     I'm  at  last  arrived  at  my  ribs. 
To  hell  with  them!     They  are  not  even  fractured.     I 
had  a  well  known  authority  tell  me  the  truth  yesterday 
— that's  why  I  didn't  write  at  once.     He  said  a  contusion 
was  twice  as  painful  as  a  fracture,  and  the  pain  will  last 
for  weeks.     He  ordered  cold  compresses,  without — and 
within  (quite  superfluous  the  latter !)     And  I'm  still  suf- 
fering in  an  irritable  humor,  but  able  to  sit  up  and  take 
nourishment  3  times  3  daily.     I  feel  better  walking  so 
our  legs  are  weary  from  the  trotting  over  the  cold  stones 
of  Berlin  (what  a  chilly  place  it  is).     I  miss  Budapest 
and  Heidelberg.     Spanuth  has  Just  phoned  that  he  goes 
to  the  Budapest  affair  as  all  the  old  Liszt  pupils  will  be 
there.    Regarding  the  "Liszt"— a  volume  is  to  reach  you 
this  month;  but  try  to  get  Scribners  Magazine  for  Octo- 
ber.    I  got  it  here.     It  contains  the  introductory  chap- 
ter and  the  beautiful  head  by  my  Missus.     Spanuth  has 
translated  the  chapter  for  his  Signale.     I'll  mail  it  to 
you.     I'm  sending  this  to  your  hotel  as  being  the  quick- 
est.    Write  me  above  address  for  at  least  a  week— say 
Oct.   17th.     We  are  pleasantly  situated  in  the  noisiest 
part  of  Berlin.     How  I  regret  the  alteration  of  my  plans, 
but  what's  the  use  of  going  to  Vienna  or  Budapest  if  I 
can't  write,  and  I  can't  write,  I  can't  stoop  over  for  more 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  119 

than  a  few  minutes.  Dr.  Cohn  says  it's  quite  natural; 
there's  some  sort  of  intercostal  bruise.  But  superficial. 
I'm  all  right  except  I  had  a  grouch  against  Germany  in 
general  and  that  Trdger  in  particular.  The  Missus  will 
tell  you  of  the  rich  round  English  oaths  that  rang  out  in 
the  midnight  of  the  Kolner  bahnhof.  And,  then,  quite 
inconsistently,  I  tipped  the  stupid  brute  to  double  what 
he  asked.  The  Yankees  are  easy  marks.  Give  my  re- 
gards to  Mrs.  Rosebault  and  thank  her  for  her  sympathy. 
I  don't  deserve  it.  Let  me  know  your  plans  and  don't 
alter  your  schedule  for  us.  Vienna  is  pleasanter  than 
Berlin.     But  if  you  are  coming  say  when  and  where. 

As  Ever       t 

Jim 

I'll  write  later  if  we  make  any  change. 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

Berlin,  N.  W. 
Am  Bahnhof  Friedrichstr. 

Dear  Charlie  O^^-  '^'  ^9" 

Yours  arrived  this  morning  to  cheer  us  and  the  Tristan 
and  Isolde  of  Airs.  Rosebault  almost  made  me  laugh  (I 
was  afraid  to  let  go !)  Sorrowful  to  relate  we  sail  next 
Sat.  Oct.  2 1  St  on  the  **  President  Lincoln"  from  Hamburg- 
Cuxhaven,  and  glad  to  get  cabins  (2  singles).  We  are 
homesick  and  blue,  and  as  I  can't  write  what's  the  use  of 
staying  over,  spending  money.  (I've  spent  $1200.  hard 
cash  since  Sept.  26 — too  much  for  a  poor  but  honest 
newspaper  man.)  Therefore — oh  hell,  what's  the  use ! 
It's  luck,  that's  all,  and  I  must  grin  and  bear  it.  Dr. 
Cohn  at  once  bandaged  me;  if  it  had  been  done  at  once  I 
should  be  well  to-day.  The  Cologne  idiot  didn't  know  I 
was  suffering  with  a  bone  lesion,  and  for  3  weeks  I  went 


120    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

around  taking  risks  of  a  compound  fracture.  I'm  mend- 
ing fast,  so  fast  that  we  went  to  London  last  week  and 
returned  in  2  days.  Business,  a  picture.  I  didn't  get 
it  but  I  was  on  the  Job.  Some  day  I'll  tell  you  his  name. 
I'm  fagged  out  and  nervous.  The  doctor  says  I'll  feel 
the  shock  for  months.  My  chagrin,  the  rage  of  Jozia, 
are  both  aggravated  by  the  idea  that  we  can't  meet  Mrs. 
Rosebault  and  you.  Du  Gliickpilz  !  Vienna,  a  thousand 
times  more  genial  than  this  bleak,  grey,  city  of  rude  Prus- 
sians. Phew !  I'll  be  glad  to  escape.  Sore  side  and  all 
I  contrived  to  see  some  great  pictures  (Cassel,  Darm- 
stadt, Frankfurt,  etc.).  I'll  write  about  them  when  I  get 
better  and  on  my  own  desk  at  the  CarroIIton.  Thanks 
for  your  generous  offer  to  take  my  dictation.  What  a 
hell  you  have  escaped !  I  can't  dictate.  Now,  you  are 
to  be  envied.  Budapest,  Sofie  Menter,  Arthur  Fried- 
heim  and  other  Liszt  pupils  and  a  real  Liszt  festival. 
Spanuth  says  it  is  to  be  the  affair,  and  not  the  Heidelberg 
one. 

Charlie,  your  letters  and  the  letter  of  Mrs.  Rosebault 
I'll  save.  They  were  the  only  ray  of  light  in  a  dull 
month.  Thanks  again.  Regards  from  both  to  the  Mis- 
sus.    And  excuse  this  scrawl. 

s  ever         j^mes  Huneker 


To  Dr.  C.  U.  Arieus  Kappers 

Dr.  Kappers  is  the  head  of  a  famous  brain  institute  of  Amster- 
dam. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Doctor  Kappers:  Nov.  13,  191 1 

On  September  20th  we  were  in  Koln,  Germany,  en 
route  for  Budapest  (the  Liszt  feier,  Oct.  21st)  and  from 


TO  DR.  C.  U.  ARIEUS  KAPPERS  121 

Bruges — where  we  stopped  from  Sept.  6th  to  21st.  And 
that  is  as  near — 5  hours  or  so — as  we  were  to  you.  But 
fate  in  the  shape  of  a  nobly  stupid  Trager  intervened, 
who  placed  the  hand  luggage  at  precisely  the  spot  where 
I  would  stumble  over  it  on  alighting  from  the  train.  I 
did  not  fail  to  do  so :  ergo :  two  fractured  ribs,  three  weeks 
enforced  inactivity  in  Koln,  and,  naturally,  much  loud 
lamenting  over  my  luck,  on  my  part.  Mrs.  Huneker 
was,  as  usual,  beautifully  patient.  Nevertheless,  our 
plans  were  upset,  and  we  returned  here  last  week  after 
a  hard  week  or  so  on  the  stormy  ocean.  Even  there  my 
luck  deserted  me — it  took  us  13  days  on  the  big  "President 
Lincoln"  (Hamburg-American  line,  18000  tons)  to  reach 
home.  We  both  regret  we  didn't  go  over  to  the  Hague 
or  Amsterdam  where  I  could  have  taken  a  nachkur  among 
the  Rembrandts.  Instead  we  went  to  charming  Cassel 
(where  there  are  22  lovely  Rembrandts)  and  so  lieber 
Herr  Doktor,  that  is  the  history  of  a  painful  experience 
rendered  doubly  so  after  the  terrific  heat  of  a  dry  summer. 
Your  books  came  safely  and  I  thank  you  for  them.  As 
soon  as  I  get  back  into  harness  Til  study  them.  If  I  can 
handle  any  one  of  the  problems  journalistically — that  is, 
superficially  enough  to  make  reading  of  them  for  the 
general  public  I'll  do  so,  and  send  you  the  result  (but  be 
merciful  to  the  amateur !)  Never  again  Europe  for  us 
without  Holland.  There's  no  flavor  or  savor  left  in  the 
big  cities  for  New  Yorkers.  We  love  Holland.  Mrs. 
Huneker  joins  me  in  regards. 

Sincerely, 

James  Huneker 


122    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

The  CarroIIton 
Nov.  15  191 1 
Dear  Frida 

We  are  just  back  from  Germany  and  got  all  your  com- 
munications, card  included.  Before  we  sailed  to  Ant- 
werp we  received  your  card  from  Homburg  V.  H.  which 
I  answered  at  Bruges.  Did  you  get  the  card  I  sent  from 
that  town?  I  didn't  send  any  more  for  the  reason  that 
I  had  a  nasty  accident  in  Coin  which  laid  me  up  for  a 
month,  cut  short  my  trip  by  6  weeks  and  caused  me  no 
end  of  suffering.  I  stumbled  over  some  hand  luggage  in 
the  banhof  which  a  fool  Trdger  left  exactly  in  front  of 
the  train  door — we  had  just  arrived  from  Bruges;  I 
crushed  two  ribs  and  lost  all  further  interest  in  Budapest 
and  Liszt  festivals — all  of  which  were  in  my  scheme  of 
travel.  We  finally  got  to  Cassel  and  Frankfurt — where 
we  rested;  then  Berlin,  Hamburg,  home — after  a  terribly 
stormy  trip — and  here  we  are  sick,  sore  &  sorry — the 
house  in  a  hell  of  a  condition  and  the  missus  busy  trying 
to  right  matters.  Fm  better.  I  ought  to  be  for  I  had 
to  keep  still  for  4  long  weeks — the  first  quiet  month  of 
my  life  since  I  left  my  mother's  lap.  How  are  you? 
Next  month  when  we  are  quite  settled  you  must  come 
up.  We  can  fix  the  date.  Thanks  for  the  comical  "Ro- 
sencavalier"  card  which  I  sent  to  Krehbiel — who  may 
publish  it.  I  can't.  I  heard  the  opera  twice — ??  Not 
carried  away.  ^^  g^^^ 

Jim 

Mrs.  Huneker  sends  regards. 

I  hope  you  like  the  "Liszt."     I  don't!  j   tr 


TO  ROYAL  CORTISSOZ  123 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 

This  note  refers  to  Mr.  Cortissoz's  review  in  The  New  York  Tribune 
of  Mr.  Huneker's  "Franz  Liszt.'* 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Royal:  N"^'  ='^'  '9" 

When  I  read  that  notice  of  yesterday  it  was  like  look- 
ing in  a  looking  glass — I  saw  my  face  as  it  must  have 
appeared  the  day  last  August  when  I  read  the  last  page 
proof!!  (Neither  guilty  nor  yet  Jocular,  but  a  blend  of 
both  expressions,  with  the  instinctive  bowing  of  the  head 
of  a  man  who  is  dodging  brickbats  from  both  camps — 
the  Lisztianer  and  the  non-Lisztians.)  Oh  wow !  God 
forgive  me !  I'm  obliged  for  a  truthful  and  sympathetic 
criticism.     You're  a  brick — as  usual ! 

And  now  to  get  into  harness  again.  Hell  and  Hominy ! 
But  I  hate  work  after  3  months  loafing  (and  my  ribs  in  a 
sling).     Hope  to  see  you  soon. 

As  Ever  t      tt 

Jim  Huneker 


1912 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroIIton 

981  Madison  Ave.  New  York  City 

T  77-  Feb.  15,  1912 

LiEBER  Karl:  ^    ^ 

Mr.  Lord  wrote  me  yesterday  that  as  Mr.  Carrol  had 
left  The  Sun  there  was  no  one  to  cover  the  two  big  sales 
at  the  American  Art  Galleries  and  the  Fischer  sale  at  the 
New  Anderson  Gallery  (40th  &  Madison  Ave.)  but  my- 
self. What  to  do?  I  had  to  write  my  Sunday  copy  yes- 
terday (new  rule — Thursday  now  for  art  stuff)  and  so 
today  spent  patrolling  the  two  shows.  Very  exhausting. 
Enormous  catalogues,  both.  Therefore  Fm  sorry  to  say 
that  it's  a  case  of  business  before  pleasure,  and  won't  you 
postpone  tomorrow's  engagement  till  a  week  later — say; 
because  I  know  you  are  not  free  Saturday;  and  Fm  not, 
as  I  hope  to  see  Simone  at  the  matinee  in  "The  Return 
from  Jerusalem"  at  the  Hudson,  with  the  Missus.  It  is 
not  the  best,  nevertheless  a  strong  Donnay  play  and  with 
a  strong  racial  theme.  How  is  Mrs.  Bright-eyes.  You'll 
see  some  one  down  to  see  her  Monday  next.  I  know 
you'll  understand  my  fit,  Charhe!  I've  kept  the  C.  S. 
L.  letter  as  a  proof  that  I'm  up  against  it  for  tomorrow. 
Just  now  I'm  sawing  wood  Kke  the  rest  of  the  boys  down- 
town.   Let  me  hear  from  you  later. 

^  ^^"'■'  Jim 

124 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  125 


To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

Park-Hotel 
Charlottenburg,  Berlin  Germany  Mch.  11  1912 

LiEBER  Karl: 

Thanks  for  your  letter,  thanks  for  the  clippings,  which 
came  last  week.  We  are  here  since  yesterday  after  two 
weeks  at  the  Kaiserhof — the  picture  of  which  I  enclose 
as  a  warning  to  American  millionaires  abroad.  The  pres- 
ent hotel  faces  the  Zoological  Garden,  in  the  prettiest, 
airiest  part  of  town — frei  aussicht.  We  are  sick  of  little, 
stuffy  hotel  rooms  and  now  own  on  the  ist  floor  a  big 
room  with  5  windows,  on  3  sides  of  a  square,  light,  heat, 
private  bath,  (and  I'm  getting  a  Bechstein  flilgel  next 
week)  for  about  the  same  price  we  paid  for  a  little  room 
and  bath  (4th  floor)  at  the  Kaiserhof  (really  the  latter  is 
a  I  St  class  but  expensive  hotel).  I  can  now  pitch  in  and 
work  hard.  I  mean  to  stay,  unless  something  happens, 
all  winter,  for  Berhn  climate  is  better  than  London,  as 
changeable  as  it  is.  And  the  music,  the  plays,  the  pic- 
tures (at  the  Friedrich-Wilhelm  Museum),  the  new  and 
significant  literature — ^why  Berlin  has  London  and  Paris 
skinned  to  death.  But  I  like  Vienna  better;  for  me  the 
Austrian  over  the  Prussian  every  time.  Food  is  not 
dear,  but  the  Pilsner  is  better  in  Prague  and  Vienna.  Oh 
dear  old  Prague !  That  town  took  my  affections.  Wait 
till  you  see  the  Prague  article  in  a  certain  monthly  maga- 
zine. My  article  on  the  Italian  Futurists  wifl  appear  in 
the  January  (191 3)  Metropolitan  Magazine.  But  my  dear 
boy  don't  bother  sending  it  to  me.  I  can  get  a  copy 
here.  The  trouble  with  the  Krantz,  Charlie,  was  simply 
this:  poor  service^  an  overworked  waiter,  no  one  in  the 
house,  as  it  was  out  of  season.    They  charged  us  20  kro- 


126    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

nen  for  a  room,  ist  floor  (excellent  bath  room)  away  at 

the  other  end  of  the  house  and  in  the  daytime  almost 

dark  by  reason  of  a  very  high  building  on  a  side  street, 

and  then  as  they  didn't  give  a  damn  when  I  complained 

about  the  service  we  simply  got  out.    The  Bristol  charged 

us  20  kr.  for  a  big  room  on  the  Ring  (3rd  floor),  cheerful, 

well  lighted  and  plenty  of  service.     The  fashionable  tea- 

swifling  and  fol-de-rol,  of  course  cut  no  ice  with  us.     We 

ate  at  Meisel  and  Schadens,  at  Hartmans,  at  the  Stadt- 

park  restaurant,  at  Sachers  (not  every  day!).    The  very 

best  meal  we  had  was  superbly  cooked  (d  la  Jrancaise)  at 

the  Bristol;  but  it  cost  our  host  200  mks.  for  four.     The 

wines  were  a  wonder.     And  the  next  best — now  don't 

laugh — was  the  result  of  a  mistake  I  made  when  I  crossed 

the  Donau  attracted  by  a  big  sign  across  the  bridge, 

"  ToneHo's  Restauration."     I  supposed,  naturally  enough, 

a  macaroni-spaghetti-Chianti  blow-out,  and  my  old  jaws 

watered.     We  went  upstairs,  found  an  absolutely  clean 

place,  with  no  more  Jews  (geschmat)  than  you  meet  in 

any  other  Vienna  restaurant,  and  I  at  once  and  quite 

briskly   ordered   two   big   portions   of  spaghetti.     The 

waiter,  a  melancholy  man,  evidently  a  lineal  descendant 

of  one  of  the  Jews  who  hung  near  Jesus  on  the  cross, 

replied:  "Sir,  Pardon.    This  is  a  Kosher  restaurant." 

Well,  we  couldn't  leave  and  I'm  glad  we  didn't  for  I  never 

in  my  life  tasted  such  roast  goose  and  knockerl.     The 

secret  was  not  the  Hebraic  chef  but  the  tiny  flavoring  of 

garlic  in  the  sauce — garlic,  which  is  the  C  major  of  all 

flavoring,  if  people  but  knew  it. 

We  are  homesick.  We  envy  you.  You  are  right, 
Europe  in  winter  is  depressing.  But  I  can't  go  back  till 
fall.  I've  all  my  plans  laid  and  now  that  my  "Chopin"  is 
to  appear  in  March  (Georg  MuIIer  Verlag,  Munchen)  I 


TO  THEODORE   PRESSER  127 

must  stay  here  and  oversee  the  translation  of  Frau  Lola 
Lorme,  (Schriftstellerin  aus  Wien.)  She  is  a  wonder,  as  I 
told  you.  Of  course,  we  shall  meet  in  London  in  April 
or  May.  I  must  read  proofs  of  my  new  Scribner  book 
(March  1913)  here — altogether,  while  New  York  beckons, 
Berlin  commands.  (Mann  denkt,  der  Kutscher  lenkt'.) 
(Fm  getting  Dutcher  every  hour.)  But  Berlin  has  no 
such  Pilsner  as  I  found  in  the  celebrated  old  hovel  "Reich- 
inberger-Geisel"  near  the  old  Greek  Church,  Vienna. 
That  spot  is  historic.  It's  sheer  amber  delight  that  Pils- 
ner, a  sort  of  chaste  dream  !  . 

As  ever. 


Jim 


To  Theodore  Presser 


At  this  time  Mr.  Huneker  was  contributing  to  The  Etude,  a  maga- 
zine published  by  Mr.  Presser,  the  series  of  papers  entitled  "Old 
Fogy" — "Old  Fogy"  being  a  fictitious  individual  whose  musical  ob- 
servations and  reflections  and  promenades  enabled  Mr.  Huneker  to 
do  some  of  his  most  amusing  and  eff'ective  satirical  writing. 

April  22nd  1912 

Dear  Theodore  The  CarroIIton 

Thank  you  for  remembering  me,  but  I  fear  it  will  be 
impossible  to  accept  your  kind  invitation  to  the  ban- 
quet. Apart  from  the  fact  that  I  never  made  a  speech 
in  my  life — that  is,  on  my  hind  legs — I'm  too  busy  at 
work  on  my  new  book,  which  is  due  Spring  191 3,  but 
must  be  in  publisher's  hands  before  Aug.  ist  as  I  sail 
then  for  Europe,  to  be  gone  a  long  time.  In  the  mean- 
time I'm  breaking  up  my  household,  attending  to  busi- 
ness and  wondering  why  in  hell  with  all  my  insectivorous 
activity  I'm  such  a  poor  man. 

But — I'll  be  over  about  end  of  May  and  intend  bother- 
ing you  to  the  extent  of  a  luncheon  (with  me!)  and  a 


128    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

conversation  strictly  business.  How  does  this  proposition 
appeal:  "Old  Fogy"  /V2.  N  8°^^  to  Europe  after 
many  years*  absence;   /  '^'^^      )  be  notes  the  terrible 

dissonance     of     the  /tzr^- -^  /  years  when  he  heard 

Dussek  play  (he  was  i^^  *  a  Dussek  pupil  I  be- 
lieve. Konsult  Krehbiel !)  and  the  present  appalling  con- 
dition of  keyboard  smashing.  That  and  many  things, 
topics  (always  musical)  &c.  might  be  lightly  touched  for 
I  mean  to  be  in  Paris,  Berlin,  Brussels,  London  &c.  Keep 
the  news  of  my  trip  entre  nous.  I'll  write  later  in  time 
to  warn  you  of  my  visit  to  Phila.     Don't  flee ! 

As  ever         ■.  „ 

James  Huneker 

To  Lawrence  Gilman 

The  CarroIIton 

May  21,  1912 
Dear  Oilman 

Here  are  the  proofs;  not  bad  considering.  I'm  glad  to 
get  them  now  for  I  go  away  Friday  till  Tuesday  for  a 
rest — or  a  Pilsner  bath.  My  nerves  are  in  rags.  I'm 
getting  a  book  ready  for  Spring  19 13,  and  in  it  is  an 
article  on  the  very  subject  [Wagner's  love-affair  with 
Mathilde  Wesendonck].  First:  Erome  isn't  quite  respon- 
sible; Ellis  is.  Both  are  imbeciles  over  Wagnerism.  Sim- 
ply quote  "Richard  Wagner  in  Zurich"  by  Hans  Belart. 
(I  have  the  pamphlet,  but  in  a  library  of  3000  books, 
music,  periodicals,  dust  and  hell,  I  can't  lay  my  hands  on 
it  Just  now;  but  if  later  I  run  across  [it]  you  shall  have  it. 
It  is  in  German.  You  can't  get  the  facts  in  the  Wagner- 
Wesendonck  letters.  Cosima  took  care  of  that.  Here 
they  are:  The  day  (morning)  of  August  nth  1858  Minna 
Wagner  went  to  the  Wesendonck  Villa  and  told  Otto — 
the  original  of  King  Markcy  and  no  doubt  as  big  a  bore 


TO  CHARLES  J.   ROSEBAULT  129 

— the  true  state  of  affairs.  What  happened  later  in  the 
day  no  one  can  tell,  but  R.  W.  left  that  night  for  Italy- 
after  borrowing  money  from  Jacob  Sulzer.  Wesendonck 
when  asked  why  told  his  intimates  that  he  had  asked 
R.  to  go.  The  scandal  was  all  the  greater  because  a 
musicale  had  been  planned  for  the  Villa,  and  Liszt  being 
invited  arrived  on  the  20th  and  to  his  amazement  found 
his  friend  not  in  the  vicinity.  Mathilde  W.  wrote  in 
1859  that  Richard  had  left  "voluntarily"  I  A  barber 
who  used  to  shave  me  at  the  Gilsey  House  25  years  ago 
was  never  happier  than  when  retailing  the  small  talk  of 
the  time.  He  had  shaved  the  mighty  Richard  at  Zurich, 
and  knew  of  the  interrupted  love  affair.  He  called  Wag- 
ner a  "little  bandy  legged  fresh  Jew"  ("/rec/?"  he  meant); 
the  "Krummebeine"  is  an  old  anecdote;  Wagner,  so  they 
say,  always  wore  a  long  cloak  to  conceal  his  convex  legs. 
But  my  dear  Gilman,  chuck  Belart  at  their  head.  He 
gives  chapter  &  verse,  which  I  can't,  though  I'm  quoting 
from  my  story  which  appeared  in  The  Bookman  (?)  or 
Metropolitan,  10  or  12  years  ago.  It  is  called  "Richard 
Wagner's  Greatest  Romance."  I'll  really  have  to  look 
up  Belart.    But  what  I  write  is  the  gist  of  the  matter. 

As  Ever         ,  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

The  CarroIIton 

T-N  /^  June  16,  1012 

Dear  Charlie:  ^ 

Glad  to  hear  from  you  (could  you  say  that  Welsh  ho- 
tel's name?)  and  glad  to  know  that  you  are  so  jolly  well 
settled  (how's  that  for  English  idiom?)  for  the  Summer. 
I  envy  you.  New  York  is  cold,  nasty,  a  British  east 
wind,  rare  for  this  time  of  the  year.     But  I  can't  get 


130    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

away,  principally  on  account  of  my  book  (all  done,  but 
proofs  to  be  read !  Hell  &  damnation  ! !)  and  the  trouble 
of  tearing  everything  up  from  the  roots — books  to  sell, 
pictures  to  sell,  furniture  to  give  away  (it's  so  old  and 
rotten)  &c.  But  out  of  here  we  sail  Aug.  17 — or  20, 
surely;  that  is  if  the  gods  permit.  Going  through  my 
letters  I  found  2  you  gave  me,  in  1903,  one  to  Harry 
Chamberlain,  the  other  to  Blumenfeld.  I  suppose  if  I 
dilly-dally  long  enough  R.  B.  will  die  too;  but,  really  I'm 
going  to  see  him  when  I  reach  London,  though,  naturally 
I  can't  and  don't  expect  to  "strike  oil"  the  first  year. 
Besides,  for  a  year  I'm  not  going  to  kill  myself.  I  want 
to  write  a  real  book,  not  damnable  criticism.  Tell  Mrs. 
Brighteyes  I  was  given  a  pleasant  shock  by  seeing  an 
excellent  photograph  of  her  own  true  self  in  the  Welte- 
Mignon  Co.  window  on  5th  Ave.  in  company  with  Fan 
Bloomfield,  Paderewski,  Leschetiszky,  and  other  celebri- 
ties !  Nothing  new — Fritz  LafFan  is  back,  and  The  Eve- 
ning Sun  is  simply  humming  with  business.  The  political 
situation  is  rank.  Uncle  Joe  Cannon  says  the  difference 
between  Taft  and  Roosevelt  is  the  difference  between  a 
boil  and  a  carbuncle.  Take  your  choice.  Jim  Gordon 
Bennett,  the  "Commodore,"  is  to  be  here  all  Summer  as 
The  Herald  (the  daily,  not  the  weekly)  needs  mending 
badly.  Down  to  28,000  daily.  Incredible  I  But  I  got 
it  from  headquarters.  The  Missus  sends  regards  to  both 
of  you.  So  do  I.  My  "Liszt"  continues  to  "draw"  in 
London.     Excellent  notices.     Warum?     I  give  it  up. 

As  Ever  ,      tt 

Jim  Huneker 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  131 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

Conrad  Uhl's  Hotel  Bristol 

^  ^_  Berlin  U.  D.  Linden  5  u.  6  June  17-1912 

Dear  Ned 

Your  welcome  letter  reached  me  in  London  but,  frankly 

I  was  up  to  my  middle  in  Richard  Strauss  and  his  music 
and  did  not  dare  to  stop — else  sudden  death.  We  are 
here  a  week — 15  theatres  and  one  mal  opera.     In  Paris — 

I I  theatres  2  mal  music :  London — God,  I  cannot  count 
London  in  the  3  weeks.  Often  twice  a  day — theatres, 
music.  I  have  seen  and  talked  with  and  interviewed 
etc.  etc.:  Richard  Strauss,  Maurice  Maeterlinck,  Rodin; 
also  Debussy,  Huysmans,  Havelock  Ellis,  Arthur  Sy- 
mons,  Hans  Richter,  George  Bernard  Shaw.  Strauss 
music  I  heard  from  "Italia"  to  "Quixote"  &  "Helden- 
leben"  —  several  numbers  ("Heldenleben"  &  "Also 
Sprach,"  twice  over).  What's  the  use  Bill ! !  What's  the 
use  of  anything !  We  had  a  cosy  chat  and  he  has  ac- 
cepted the  dedication  of  the  "Liszt" — (This  entre  nous — 
he  is  bored  to  death  with  life.)  In  Paris,  where  I  went 
to  write,  I  accomplished  the  well-nigh  crazy  feat  of  writ- 
ing 33,000  words  from  a  Thursday  night  to  a  Sunday 
morning  (i.  e.  Monday  3.30  a.  m.)  Several  days  I  wrote 
14  hours  at  a  stretch.  How's  that  for  your  fat  papa! 
You  see  it  was  a  case  of  saving  up  3  weeks  accumulated 
impressions,  and  then — fizz,  phew,  bang ! ! 

The  Missus  has  enjoyed  herself  betimes;  it  was  no  fun 
to  race  across  the  Channel  to  Paris  for  2  weeks  and  then 
back  for  another  week  in  London  for  the  Strauss  festi- 
val. Heard  Elgar's  "Gerontius"  at  Westminster  Cathe- 
dral; composer  conducted.  Good !  honest  stuff;  not  origi- 
nal. Strauss  has  spoiled  me.  "Don  Quixote" — !!!  Was 
kann  ich  reden?     R.  S.  has  a  dry  wit.     He  was  followed 


132    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

about  by  the  cockroach 1  could  not  get  in  a  word 

edgeways.  Finally  I  kicked.  Won't  you  have  genug 
from  Strauss  in  New  York  next  Spring — cockroach  I?" 
When  we  escaped  this  undertaker,  Strauss  turned  to  me 

and  remarked:  "Der  Herr  1    Wissen  was  ist  ein 

Wurzel?"  "Ja  Meister,"  ich  hab  replied:  "Es  ist  ein 
sogennante  'you  can't  lose  me  Willy'  in  English,"  und 
wie  er  hat  gelacht — mein  Wort  I  Today  Jozia  had  a 
distinct  bow  and  salute  from  the  Kaiser  unter  den  Lin- 
den. He  looks  well — and  wickedly.  I  tremble  to  think 
what  would  have  been  the  result  if  die  schone  Amanda 
had  stood  in  my  "rib's"  place.  Willy  might  have 
Jumped  his  cab  I  Last  night  Kunzle's  "Evangelimann" 
at  the  opera.  What  rot  I  We  go  to  Vienna  in  a  day; 
after  that  Pesth — then  the  Austrian  Tyrol;  Salzkammer- 
gut  until  Munich,  August — Fm  fagged  out.  I  never 
worked  harder  in  my  life.  Fve  sent  postals  to  the  boys. 
Weil  was  here  but  has  gone.  We  met  Thomas  Tapper 
on  the  Flushing  boat.  In  London  at  the  second  Strauss 
evening  the  following  well  known  persons  sat  in  the 
stalls:  Mr.  &  Mrs.  Marc  A.  Blumenburg,  Mr.  Otto  Floers- 
heim,  Mr.  Montague  Chester,  Mr.  &  Mrs.  Henry  Wolf- 
sohn,  Mr.  &  Mrs.  H.  H.  Wetzlar,  Mr.  C.  M.  LoefHer, 
Mr.  Otto  Weil — Ternina — Milka — Fremstad,  Olive — 
Fritz  Kreisler  and — Beadleston  &  Woerz,  Pachmann,  the 
two  MacDowells — E.  A.  and  Missus,  Francis  Neilson, 
The  Hungrykeirs !  etc.  etc.  The  world  is  a  tiny  place — 
after  all  I  As  Ever  j^^^ 

G.  B.  S.  was  very  much  pleased  with  the  Sun  story — I 
didn't  send  it  to  him.  And  only  today  Symons  writes 
me  here  his  pleasure  with  the  story.     But  in  Paris,  my 


TO  BENJAMIN  DE  CASSERES  133 

Maeterlinck  articles  opened  every  theatre.  We  were 
guests  at  any  place  we  chose  to  go.  In  London  I  am 
only  known  as  a  music  critic;  but  in  Paris,  which  is 
slightly  in  advance  of  the  sooty  metropolis,  I  won  out  on 
the  Sun  articles — in  a  word  a  man  achieves  fame  and  30 
francs  a  week  in  one  critique  only.  Ask  at  Brentano's 
for  the  Weekly  Critical  Review  of  June  4th.  It  has 
10,000  circulation — and  a  big  list  of  contributors.  Really 
Bless  is  getting  along.  He  pays  his  people,  tool  Best 
of  all  and  a  joke  forever  on  me  he  has  been  decorated  by 
the  Academic  Fran^aise  for  his  translation  of  my  Cho- 
pin ! !  The  dedication  to  Jules  Claretie  did  the  busi- 
ness. He  is  now  Officier  de  I'Academie — wears  a  purple 
ribbon  and  expects  next  year  the  Legion  d'Honneurl 
Fancy  I  What  a  farce — and  I  am  eating  sauerkraut  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  Spree  and  on  the  edge  of  a  table — 
unknown,  unheard,  unsung  and  toujours  thirsty.  But 
no  fun  as  yet  my  boy.  There's  no  racketing  over  here. 
Life  is  mild  and  even.     Again  I  wish  you  were — mit  I 

Jim 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Mr.  De  Casseres  had  just  sent  Mr.  Huneker  the  manuscript  of 
"an  appreciation"  of  his  work  and  influence. 

The  CarroIIton 

Dear  Ben  Aug.  ist/12 

I'm  sensible,  naturally,  of  your  kindness  and  all  that 
but — phew  I  Too  tall  by  half !  You  must  really,  my 
boy,  cool  off  your  verbal  caloric.  Mr.  Brownell  of  Scrib- 
ners,  who  admires  your  verbal  virtuosity,  thinks  as  I  do 
— you  work  at  too  high  pressure,  too  much  rhapsody, 
and  too  little  reality.     Of  course,   for  metaphysics  in 


134    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

poetic  prose  it's  all  very  appropriate,  such  gorgeous  ver- 
bal orchestration.     Take  pattern  after  such  a  thinker  as 
Gaultier — who  is  much  more  original  than  Bergson,  and 
for  whom  I  quite  share  your  admiration — and  write  more 
soberly,  less  fantastically.     Coming  from  me  this  advice 
must  seem  funny,  but  it  is  precisely  because  I  went 
through  your  period — perhaps  not  so  brilliantly — that  I 
dare  venture  this  criticism.     I'm  not  sure  that  my  advice 
still  fits  my  own  case.     But  I'm  certain  you'll  take  it  all 
in  good  faith,  my  impertinent  intrusion  (to  hell  with  ad- 
vice, anyhow).     Technically  my  objection  is  that  your 
treatment  of  a  theme  becomes  monotonous  simply  be- 
cause there  are  too  many  "high-lights,"  too  much  of  the 
"ultra-violet."     Art,  like  nature,  demands  shadow;  re- 
lief from  the  too  insistent  sunshine  of  your  personality. 
But  you'll  see  salvation  some  day.     I  like  the  Strindberg 
(I  had  one  in  Harper's  Weekly  of  last  Saturday)  and 
better  still  I  hke  the  story.     It's  a  close  study  of  a  mor- 
bid conscience — though  a  little  shrill.     Now,  do  me  a 
favor,  tear  up  that  "J.  H."  stuff;  it  will  only  make  ene- 
mies for  you  and  also  create  the  suspicion  that  I'm  using 
you  as  a  press  agent.    By  the  way:  I  wrote  a  story  in 
1900,  "The  New  Sin,"  which  is  morbid,  decadent,  devil- 
worshipping,  hysterical,  and  if  I  publish  it  send  me  a  letter 
full  of  hellish  prudence  and  I'll  laugh.     You  must  work 
out  your  own  cure.     Be  good,  or  virtuous  and  you  will 
be  bilious.  As  Ever    Jim 


TO  THEODORE  PRESSER  135 


To  Theodore  Presser 

Mr.  Huneker  had  just  prepared  the  "Old  Fogy"  papers  for  book 
publication  at  the  hands  of  the  Theodore  Presser  Company  of  Phila- 
delphia, publishers  of  The  Etude.  On  the  title-page  of  the  volume 
Mr.  Huneker's  name  appears,  in  furtherance  of  the  satu-ical  scheme, 
only  as  author  of  the  introduction. 

N.  Y.  City,  Aug.  13,  191 2 
Dear  Presser:  The  CarroIIton 

In  another  enclosure  Vm  sending  you  by  registered 
mail  the  whole  shooting-match  of  "Old  Fogy":  the  letters 
in  the  chapter  order  I  designate  by  Roman  numerals, 
thus:  I,  II,  III,  IV,  V,  &c,  &c.  I  think  no  dates  will  be 
necessary;  and  not  always  the  residence  need  be  insisted 
upon.  Vm  sending  17,  all  I  could  find  that  have  thus 
far  appeared  in  The  Etude;  perhaps  you  can  dig  out  some 
more  in  the  back  files.  I'm  also  sending  the  two  extra 
ones  set  down  in  the  bond,  and  a  story  of  a  venerable 
Centenarian  Wonderchild  which  I  wrote  in  1888,  and 
which  was  published  during  the  Josef  Hofmann  furore. 
To  my  notion  it  will  cap  off  the  volume  very  appropri- 
ately— it's  grotesque  (I  use  the  word  as  Berlioz  did  for  a 
volume  of  his)  and  will  make  the  chapters  no.  XX.  The 
introduction  is  written  in  a  dignified  tone — any  other 
would  be  ineffectual.  It's  a  blague,  as  our  French  friends 
say,  that  will  be  understood  at  once.  It's  signed,  of 
course.  The  reference  to  you  and  The  Etude  is  necessary. 
The  title  page  and  dedicatory  pages  explain  themselves. 
No  tricks  on  travellers,  Theodore!  My  name  may  ap- 
pear as  big  as  you  please — but  only  as  the  author  of  the 
Introduction.  Everyone  will  see  through  the  hole  in  the 
millstone. 

I  don't  want  25  free  copies;  half  dozen  (6)  will  suffice, 
and  I  hope  you  will  send  a  review  copy  to  every  daily 


136    LETTERS  OF  JAiMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

newspaper  in  New  York.     Praise  or  abuse  matters  little 

— the  mention  of  the  book  is  the  chief  thing. 

We  sail  Aug.  27th  but  leave  this  apartment  Aug.  24 — 

the  Saturday  previous.     So  just  send  along  that  S250 

cheque  here  with  the  contract  also  as  I  wish  to  turn  my 

available  cash  into  a  letter  of  credit.     I  think  you  will 

like  the  "College  of  Critics."     I've  supplied  the  key  for 

you,  not  for  your  readers.     Fve  not  stepped  too  hard  on 

any  one's  toes.  * 

•^  As  ever,         ,  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  E.  E.  Ziegler 
Dear  Ned  Paris  28  Sep.  1912 

Only  a  line  to  say  how  dye  do  I  We  stayed  in  Holland 
for  10  days — saw  all  the  wonderful  Rembrandts,  Ver- 
meers,  Halses !  etc.  at  Haarlem,  the  Hague  &  Amsterdam. 
One  Sat.  night  at  Scheveningen  we  heard  Mengelberg 
conduct  the  Lamoreux  band;  a  good  programme:  Beetho- 
ven's 8th — which  suited  the  Frenchmen  to  perfection;  R. 
Strauss,  Don  Juan — splendidly  read  by  Mengelberg — 
and  Tschaikowsky's  5th  symphony,  E  minor,  my  old 
favorite.  Here  the  Paris  players  fell  off — they  did  the 
Valse  with  a  dainty  touch  but  despite  M's  passion  and 
authority  they  couldn't  catch  the  dramatic  Calmuck 
color.  However  Zeeland,  Austern  and  Pilsner  consoled 
me,  and  the  Hague  is  only  20  minutes  away.  I  adore 
Holland,  but  not  when  it  is  raining  in  Little  Holland  as 
it  did  for  10  days  without  a  break.  Brussels  and  Ant- 
werp were  better.  We  went  to  Bruges,  Ghent,  Anvers — 
pictures,  burgundy,  good  Belgian  food,  rain,  oaths  and 
irritability.  We  were  and  still  are  homesick.  We  are 
both  too  old  to  travel — and  money !  Herrje  !  I  It  costs 
lots  more  than  in  America.     Paris  where  we've  been  a 


TO  EDWARD  E.  ZIEGLER  137 

week  has  lost  its  glamour — with  the  exception  of  the 
Louvre  and  the  beauty  of  the  city.  The  people  one 
comes  in  contact  with  are  either  bandits  or  beggars.  We 
go  to  London  next  Tuesday;  to  Stuttgart  Oct.  21st. 
Spanuth  wrote  where  to  apply  for  tickets  &  hotel  etc. 
So,  thanks  to  him,  Tve  a  card  to  the  general  Probe  for 
"Ariadne  in  Naxos,"  Oct.  24th.  I  stay  in  S.  10  days  (I've 
3  separate  stories  to  write  of  the  great  Festwoche)  thence 
to  Munich  to  interview  Liebermann  the  painter,  finally 
to  Vienna  &  Prague  (in  one  story).  Where  we  shall  win- 
ter can't  say  yet.  But  it  won't  be  in  foggy  old  London. 
We  return  to  London  in  May — interviewed  Henri  Berg- 
son  and  Henri  Matisse  here,  and  yesterday  wrote  4000 
words  (lie  down  Towser !  ounce !  ounce !)  for  The  Metro- 
politan Magazine  for  Dec.  or  Jan.  on  the  Italian  Futur- 
ists, whose  show  I  was  lucky  enough  to  see  at  Amsterdam 
— of  all  places,  Sep.  8th.  I  enclose  a  specimen  of  their 
"simultaneous  states  of  soul"  on  one  canvas.  Look  up 
the  story  if  you  will  remember;  also  the  Bergson  in  The 
Forum  for  Jan.  191 3.  I've  put  your  name  on  the  list 
for  the  March  book  (Scribners).  Presser  brings  out  the 
"Old  Fogy"  (only  50,000  words)  but  I  don't  know  when. 
You  may  see  the  rot  and  if  you  don't  you  won't  miss 
much.  How  is  everybody?  Are  you  all  up  from  the 
seashore!  Ned,  how  we  envy  you  your  comfortable 
home  and  comfortable  apartment.  These  Europeans  are 
uncivilized  despite  their  art  and  their  extravagant  polite- 
ness (I  loathe  their  jabbering  and  hat-lifting).  We  pay 
25  frs.  a  day  for  a  room  in  this  excellent  hotel — with  pri- 
vate bath.  But  with  all  the  gilt  and  marble  there  is  a 
chill  in  the  place  the  moment  the  sun  goes  behind  a 
cloud.  Germany  is  more  comfortable.  They  shave  you 
with  strapped  razors  and  keep  the  Pilsner  O.  K.    Give 


138    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

our  regards  to  Suzanne  and  the  girly-gfrly.  We'll  stick 
it  for  the  winter — but  home  I  think  in  Oct.  191 3  (I  must 
write  a  book  Bill.  Lie  down  quaint  phrases !).  I'll  drop 
you  a  line  from  London.  Oh,  the  Manet  in  the  Louvre — 
that  glorious  Olympe.  It  consoles  me  for  the  absence  of 
the  incomparable  "Mona  Lisa"  (which  I  hear  is  not 
stolen,  but  safe  in  the  hands  of  the  Louvre  people) ;  only 
it  is  not  the  real  Da  Vinci  "Mona."  That  was  stolen  over 
100  years  ago,  and  for  a  century  and  more  the  world  of 
art  etc.  has  been  feasting  its  eyes  on  a  copy !  Es  ist  zur 
Lachen !  This  is  only  one  of  a  million  stories;  it's  worth 
while  repeating. 

As  Ever 


Jim 


To  W.  C.  Brownell 


Hotel  Louvois 

_  , ,       T^  Paris,  Sept.  29,  1912 

Dear  Mr.  Brownell: 

Just  a  line  of  greeting  with  the  hope  that  your  Maine 
trip  "fixed"  you  up  in  proper  fashion.  We  are  here  in 
the  centre  of  old  Paris  facing  the  National  Library,  at 
the  Louvre  twice  a  day  and  boring  ourselves  generally 
with  a  noisy,  dirty,  vulgar,  yet  marvellously  beautiful 
city.  On  the  boulevard  I  curse  this  abode  of  bandits 
and  beggars;  in  the  Bois  I  bless  it.  I  suppose  after  two 
weeks  in  Holland  the  change  is  too  great.  We  loitered 
in  rainy  Rotterdam,  Amsterdam,  moss-grown  Delft,  La 
Haye  and  Haarlem.  Again  I  threw  up  my  hands  in  de- 
spair: Hals!  Rembrandt!  Vermeer! — and  the  last  is  not 
least.  The  two  new  Vermeers  (collection  "Mynheer 
Six")  at  the  Rijks  are  something  extraordinary;  not  the 
Vermeer  of  the  hard,  miniature-like  finish,  but  bold,  loose, 
and  big  &  sonorous  coloring — such  blues  and  reds, — and 


TO  W.   C.   BROWNELL  139 

such  human  tenderness.  Chardin  at  his  best — and  yes- 
terday I  again  saw  "  La  Pourvoyeuse,"  which  is  Vermeer  in 
feeling — does  not  approach  Vermeer.  I'm  going  to  do  a 
study  of  the  thirty-five  known  canvases.  (The  Morgan 
"Letter"  at  the  MetropoHtan  Museum,  and  Widener's 
"Lady  Weighing  Pearls"  in  Philadelphia  are  not  on  the 
list,  horrible  to  relate !  And  in  Amsterdam  I  went — as  last 
— to  the  Italian  Futurist  show,  which  is  slowly  making  its 
way  round  the  globe.  I  Just  finished  4000  words,  with 
suitable  illustrations  (?)  for  The  Metropolitan  Magazine 
for  December  or  January  (19 13).  So  I'll  not  waste  your 
time  telling  of  the  crazy  and  dynamic  stuff.  Enclosed  is 
a  picture  from  the  Dutch  catalogue  which  is  supposed  to 
depict  the  sensations — optical  and  purely  subjective — of 
the  painter  Carra  at  a  street  row  over  the  burial  of  the 
anarchist  Galli — police  and  students  are  banging  each 
other  with  canes  and  staves,  and  banners  are  whirling 
every  way.  It  is  full  of  primitive  ferocity  and  enormous 
rhythmic  energy;  it  is  certainly  the  most  striking  picture 
in  the  gallery,  as  I  think.  The  color  ranges  from  an 
arsenical  green  to  a  stove  pipe  sooty  black.  But  I've 
expatiated  at  length  in  the  Metropolitan  story  and  I  think, 
I  hope,  I've  been  fair.  There  is  talent  in  the  five  paint- 
ers. But  they  are  "literary"  "musical"  painters,  not 
painters  for  the  sake  of  pictorial  loveliness.  I  need  hardly 
tell  you  that  the  Flemish  Primitives  enthralled  me  as 
ever  at  Brussels  and  Antwerp.  For  me  they  are  thrice 
as  emotional  as  the  Italians  of  the  same  period.  We  go 
to  London  next  week  (sick  of  travel  already)  thence  to 
Stuttgart,  Oct.  2 1  St  for  10  days,  to  the  Richard  Strauss 
festival,  then  to  Munich — where  I  interview  Liebermann 
and  write  a  story  of  modern  German  art;  Vienna  for  The 
Century,  Prague  for  Scribners  (I  hope)  Dresden — rest  and 


140    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Pilsner  beer,  plans  for  a  new  book,  God  knows  what  else ! 
I've  interviewed  Henri  Bergson  and  Henri  Matisse  here 
and  hope  to  catch  Lloyd  George  (for  The  Times)  by  spe- 
cial arrangement,  and  Joseph  Conrad  (for  Harpers).  My 
quiver  is  full,  Mr.  Brownell,  and  when  December  comes 
I'll  rejoice.  Mrs.  Huneker,  strange  to  say,  is  homesick 
— ^the  first  time  in  her  numerous  trips  to  Europe.  But  I 
hope  to  stick  it  out  for  a  year;  besides  there's  that  writ- 
ing job  awaiting  me  when  I  finally  settle  in  London. 

As  ever  sincerely, 

James  Huneker 


To  E.  E.  Ziegler 

London,  E.  C. 
Sat.  Oct.  19/12 
Dear  Ned 

We've  been  here  over  2  weeks  and  barring  3  or  4  days 
of  black — literally — fog  the  weather  has  been  entranc- 
ing. But  the  fog,  and  the  dirty  soft  coal  smoke  I  Phew  I 
Your  linen  is  Pittsburghed  (excuse  the  verb)  in  2  hours. 
As  for  the  fog,  we  simply  stayed  indoors  fearful  of  being 
lost  around  the  corner.  It's  a  fact.  What  a  magnificent 
city,  lovely  parks  &c.  spoilt  by  the  hellish  climate.  Win- 
ter is  impossible — except  to  an  Englishman,  and  the 
Enghsh  are  very  British,  don't  you  know  I  We  skip  for 
Stuttgart  via  Flushing — Cologne  (lie  down  broken  ribs !) 
Monday  night — a  22  hour  trip.  Spanuth  will  be  there 
24th.  A  week  of  Strauss.  I  tremble,  though  the  joyful 
anticipation  of  "Rosencavalier"  is  in  me — the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  "comic"  operas.  Busy  is  no  name  here.  I 
spent  a  glorious  day  with  Joseph  Conrad  out  in  his  Kent 
country  home.  Also  the  new  movement  in  art — all  of 
interest.     I  saw  Shaw   (G.   B.   S.),  Chesterton,   Wells, 


TO  EDWARD   E.   ZIEGLER  141 

Arthur  Symons — who  is  quite  scarred — Galsworthy,  and 
met  a  lot  of  the  newspaper  crowd,  critics  etc.  They  make 
big  money  over  here — about  40  a  week  (shillings  mind 
you).  I  wouldn't  take  a  job  here  if  it  paid  in  pounds;  in 
the  end  the  climate  is  depressing  and  while  it's  cheap 
for  the  native  the  stranger  is  soaked.  I'm  at  a  German 
hotel,  splendid  service,  rooms,  cookery,  Pilsener;  but — ■ 
$7  a  day  for  room,  bath,  breakfast.  New  York  is  cheaper. 
I  yearn  for  Germany  where  one  calculates  in  marks,  not 
guineas.  I  visited  several  of  my  publishers.  Chapman 
&  Hall  (who  printed  Dickens'  works,  also  The  Fort- 
nightly); Werner  Laurie,  Heinemann  etc.  and  got  some 
of  the  English  editions.  They  are  splendidly  printed  in 
comparison  with  the  New  York  books,  but  the  buildings 
of  these  publishers  I  Old,  small,  dingy,  smelly  I  How 
do  they  manage  to  transact  business.  I  haven't  seen 
Chilton.  Hope  to  next  Spring.  I  sha'n't  return  here 
before  May  although  Mr.  McFadden  expects  to  see  me 
in  Dec.  Ned,  if  you  see  any  story  of  mine  in  The  Times 
(Sunday  magazine)  do  be  a  nice  boy  and  send  it  to  me. 

^  Ever  jj^ 

To  E.  E.  Zlegler 

Hello  Bill  I  Stuttgart,  Oct.  31,  1912. 

A  week  of  R.  Strauss  and  still  I  crave  more.  New 
York  has  yet  to  hear  authentic  performances  of  "Sa- 
lome" or  "Electra" — not  to  mention  "Feuersnot," 
"Rosencavalier"  &  "Ariadne."  (The  latter  didn't  pan 
out;  a  melange  of  styles  and  a  weak  book.)  But  the 
"Electra"  of  Campanini  was  a  farce  as  far  as  reading, 
though  never  have  I  read  or  seen  the  equal  of  Mazarin. 
Olive  F.  [Fremstad]  sang  "Salome'*  wonderfully,  here 


142    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

they  act  &  dance  it.  Garden  gave  a  perverted  version 
— not  in  the  least  like  the  "Salome"  here  or  elsewhere  in 
Germany.  Strauss  conducted  all  his  works  save  "  Feuers- 
not"  (Schillings  did  that — he  can't  hold  a  candle  to 
Hertz)  and  at  last  I  understood  "Electra" — especially 
with  Anna  Mildenberg  as  Clytemnestra — a  marvel,  and 
what  a  totally  different  character  from  the  idiotic  Doria 
reading.  We  are  fagged  out — I  with  writing,  the  Missus 
from  travel.     On  to  Munich  &  Liebermann 

^  E^«^      Jim 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 
Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  Wien,  Austria,  Nov.  17,  1912 

Your  very  charming  letter  of  Oct.  27,  reached  me  here. 
Naturally  we  are  both  glad  to  hear  from  you  and  Mrs. 
Mitchell.  Now  I  know  why  I  couldn't  see  you  before  I 
sailed.  I  was  informed  "down  stairs"  that  you  were 
"out  west."  But  "down  stairs"  is  alike  in  all  newspaper 
offices.  I  am  undergoing  and  with  decided  ill  effects 
another  of  those  breathless  scampers  through  Holland 
and  Germany  not  unlike  the  experiences  of  1903  and 
1909  but  with  a  difference;  i.  e.  I'm  not  enjoying  myself. 
I'm  suffering  from  nervous  indigestion.  Mrs.  Huneker  is 
homesick  and  we  are  both  played  out.  Some  years  ago 
you  sounded  for  me  a  gentle  note  of  warning  in  regard 
to  European  travel.  Well  the  time  has  arrived  with  a 
vengeance.  I'm  not  yet  53  but  I  am  weary  of  the  whole 
shooting  match.  Too  many  pictures,  too  much  music, 
too  much  hustling,  too  many  hotels,  cities,  railways  and 
inhuman  persons.  If  I  were  not  under  verbal  contract 
I'd  chuck  my  "further  plan"  and  rush  to  American  soil. 
But  I'm  in  too  deep  now  to  stop.     I've  interviewed  Lloyd 


TO  EDWARD   P.   MITCHELL  143 

George  (N.  Y.  World)  Joseph  Conrad  (Times)  Matisse 
(Times)  the  Futurists  (Metropolitan  Magazine)  Richard 
Strauss  (the  same)  also  for  The  Times;  and  I  must  write 
specials  on  Vienna  (Century  Magazine)  and  Prague  for 
Scribners;  not  to  mention  articles  on  Modern  German 
art  (which  I  abominate)  and  one  on  Vermeer  (Tve  seen 
every  Vermeer  in  existence — even  the  one  down  inBuda- 
pesth).  And  that  new  book  Mr.  Mitchell !  Will  I  ever 
write  it  or  shall  I  continue  to  paste  up  newspaper  and 
magazine  articles  as  heretofore.  In  March  you  will  re- 
ceive, I  hope,  one  of  the  latter,  and  I  also  hope  it  may 
prove  more  amusing  than  my  Liszt  book.  I  ** landed" 
in  Munich  last  week  my  first  German  publisher,  no  less  a 
celebrity  (in  his  own  country)  than  George  Miiller  of 
Munich  and  Leipsic.  In  the  Spring  I'll  see  my  "Chopin" 
in  the  German  tongue  (and  wonderfully  translated  by  a 
Vienna  lady).  WTiat's  more,  the  good  man  pays  down 
hard  cash  20  percent,  for  the  sole  rights  in  Germany.  If 
the  sale  is  good,  the  "Chopin"  is  to  be  followed  by  all  of 
my  books — coals  to  Newcastle  in  my  opinion,  for  I  owe 
much  to  German  culture;  therefore  why  translate  me 
into  German  ?  However  my  translator  thinks  differently 
and  at  least  3  editions  are  expected  for  each  book.  Til 
not  grow  rich  though  I  confess  I'm  pleased.  Anyhow 
the  trip  here  is  well  worth  while.  Now  my  dear  Mr. 
Mitchell  let  me  stop  all  this  self-trumpeting  and  tell  you 
that  before  I  left  Mr.  Reick  was  kind  enough  to  tell  me 
that  he  didn't  consider  me  as  "leaving  The  Sun,  but  only 
on  a  vacation."  I  then  asked  him  if  I  could  write  some 
specials  for  The  Sun  and  he  told  me  to  look  up  Luby  in 
London.  When  I  got  to  London  I  was  informed  at  the 
Savage  Club  that  Mr.  Luby  had  returned  to  America  to 
follow  Mr.  McCIoy  in  the  direction  of  the  E.  S.  (Evening 


144    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Sun) .  So  I  only  did  what  was  right  according  to  my  own 
light,  when  I  sold  some  interviews  to  The  Times.  (You 
may  remember  in  1906-7  I  wrote  for  both  The  Sun  & 
Times).  I  wish  I  could  write  some  "side-editorials" — as 
they  call  them  in  London — for  you,  and  at  the  new  rates 
($15  a  col.)  an  extravagant  price  when  compared  to  the 
rates  in  London.  Oh  !  what  a  poor  thing  is  journalism  in 
London.  Do  you  know  the  highest  priced  editor  (I  shan't 
tell  his  name)  only  gets  1500  pounds  a  year  and  he  directs 
a  big  daily  and  a  Sunday  paper ! !  What  do  you  think? 
Where  I  shall  winter  I  can't  say;  possibly  in  a  sanitarium 
for  "nerves"  if  this  travel  continues,  not  to  mention  the 
increasing  outgo  of  cash  and  the  difficulty  to  persuade 
American  editors  of  magazines  that  Europe  is  not  as 
cheap  as  it  was.  Mrs.  Huneker  begs  to  be  remembered  to 
Mrs.  Mitchell  and  to  you.  Please  put  my  name  in  the 
pot  1  By  the  way,  we  met  in  London  and  now  in  Vienna 
a  cousin  of  yours  from  Minneapolis  who  has  just  married 
James  Bell,  an  old  friend  of  my  brother  John:  Mr.  Bell  as 
you  may  know  is  one  of  the  two  magnates  of  the  flour 
world.  Pillsbury  being  the  other.  He  is  a  good  man  and 
Mrs.  Bell  is  very  sympathetic.    She  spoke  of  you  often. 

Sincerely  as  ever 

James  Huneker 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 

When  this  was  written  Mr.  Huneker  was  selecting,  with  the  ad- 
vice of  Mr.  Brownell,  the  material  for  his  volume,  "The  Pathos  of 
Distance:  A  Book  of  a  Thousand  and  One  Moments." 

Hotel  Atlantic 
Dear  Mr.  Brownell:  Berlin,  Dec.  12,  igii 

Enclosed  the  newly  renovated  Chapter  6.     You  may 
note  that  I've  added  2  new  pages — a  few  thousand  words 


TO  W.  C.  BROWNELL  145 

from  my  story  in  The  Sunday  Times  of  Nov.  14.  The 
addition  tops  off  the  Matisse  I  think.  I  had  hoped  to 
add  also  a  story  of  the  Italian  Futurists  but  as  that  is 
not  to  appear  till  Jan.  in  The  Metropohtan  Magazine  I 
couldn't  wait  for  it;  as  it  is,  I  hope  this  isn't  too  late. 
To  offset  the  newly  added  matter  remove  the  last  page  7 
of  the  Matisse  story  dealing  with  Toulouse-Lautrec;  or, 
better  still,  amputate  entirely  the  section  of  the  chapter 
"Certain  American  Painters"  which  concerns  William 
M.  Chase — that  is  if  the  inclusion  of  the  new  matter 
makes  any  serious  addition  to  the  size  of  the  volume. 
But  I'd  prefer  the  Chase  story  to  be  expunged  rather 
than  leave  out  the  more  vital,  not  to  say,  fresher  material 
of  Matisse  and  the  latest  post-impressionists  at  the 
Grafton.  And  please  Mr.  Brownell,  do  not  remove  the 
chapter  on  the  McFadden  English  masters,  or  the  chap- 
ter on  A.  B.  Davies.  After  seeing  the  new  men  my 
respect  for  Davies  is  augmented.  Still  here  in  gray  Berlin 
where  there  are  such  wonderful  pictures  (old)  in  the 
Kaiser  Friedrich  Museum.  Two  marvelous  Vermeers — 
I'm  quite  Vermeer-mad  and  I  think  I've  seen  about  30 
out  of  the  authentic  34  (of  course,  there  are  about  40,  but 
a  Jealous  expert  only  allows  34).  I'm  writing  a  story  on 
the  theme,  which  may  interest  you  when  it  appears  some 
Sunday.  Dresden  was  again  an  eye-refresher.  Such  a 
Rembrandt  as  the  "Young  Saskia'*  and  two  Vermeers — 
"La  Liseuse" — and  "La  Courtisane" — oh!  I  haunted 
the  gallery. 

We  may  winter  here  or  go  to  England.  Joseph  Con- 
rad and  Symons  wish  us  to  live  out  in  Kent — Wells  also 
(they  are  all  hard  by)  but  I've  so  much  newspaper  and 
magazine  work  to  get  through  with  that  I'll  finish  it  here. 
In  January  I  hope  to  begin  that  infernal  new  book — and 


146    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I  also  hope  you  will  like  it.  Only  about  90,000  words, 
straight  narrative  and  not  a  trace  of  mucilage  in  a  single 
chapter.  For  10  years  I  dreamed  of  it  and  now  it  seems 
thin,  insipid,  stale — like  the  fumes  of  a  far  off  carouse. 
So  go  the  dreams  of  a  too  heady  youth.  Are  you  feeling 
well  my  dear  friend?  We  are  not.  Homesick!  My 
address  is  as  ever,  B.  S.  &  Co.,  London. 

With  regards, 

James  Huneker 


1913 

To  Charles  J,  Rosebault 

Park  Hotel, 
Dear  Charles:  Gharlottenburg,  January  26,  1913. 

Last  night  Mrs.  Huneker  dreamed  of  Mrs.  Rosebault. 
No  use,  I  said,  I  owe  her  good  man  a  letter,  so  here  is  its 
apology.  As  my  inky  volcano  has  been  again  in  erup- 
tion, spouting  slag,  lava,  scoriae,  mud  and  brickbats  (see 
The  Times)  my  writing  is  so  much  to  the  worse,  especially 
as  I  had  a  grand  piano  here  in  our  big  room  (what  a 
charming  hotel,  just  opposite  the  Zoo)  and  my  old  stiff 
fingers  are  beginning  to  relax  with  the  aid  of  Bach  and 
Tausig.  Heard  d' Albert  play  the  other  night — audience 
2000,  delirious.  Such  playing — a  smear,  a  blur,  1 000000 
dropped  notes,  rotten  rhythms  &c.  but  the  whole  like 
something  elemental,  an  earthquake,  a  tornado,  a  col- 
lision of  planets,  the  sun  in  a  conflagration.  Since  Rubin- 
stein !  I  stood  on  my  chair  to  yell  with  the  rest  (I  was 
really  standing  on  my  head.)  Piano  playing  pays  here. 
America  is  not  the  only  land  of  dollars.  I  paid  20  marks 
for  2  wretched  seats  at  the  Philharmonic.  What  a  genius 
at  the  keyboard.  His  own  music  is  a  clever  quilt  of  other 
men's  ideas.  Ob  d* Albert!!  Never  shall  I  forget  that 
dwarf-giant,  that  Kobold— demi-god ! 

As  Ever  Jim. 

To  John  Quinn 

Gharlottenburg,  Germany,  Feb.  18,  1913 
Dear  John: 

Enclosed  is  a  photo  card  of  the  Friesz  nude,  of  which  I 

wrote.     It  is  half-life  size  and  is  on  view  in  a  Secession 

147 


148    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

show  here  in  Berlin.  It  is  evidently  under  the  Cezanne 
influence  and  is  ugly,  powerfully  modelled  and  from  its 
title — a  semi-ironical  one  I  suspect — is  the  very  vera- 
cious portrait  of  a  professional  model.  I  confess  that  I 
wouldn't  give  the  lady  house  room — nevertheless  the 
canvas  is  of  a  bulk,  and  vitahty.  The  price  asked  is 
preposterous — 2000  marks  (just  $500)  but  I  was  given 
to  understand  that  after  the  exhibition  closes  March  31st 
it  may  be  bought  for  much  less.  I'll  begin  by  offering 
$100  (dollars);  that's  about  what  it  is  worth  to  me — and 
perhaps  I  may  get  it  for  $350  or  $400;  i.  e.  if  I  want  it, 
and  at  present  I  don't.  I  haven't  been  to  the  Galleries 
since  I  wrote  you  and  for  all  I  know  the  picture  may  be 
sold  but  I  have  my  doubts.  Germans  don't  spend  money 
recklessly.  Friesz  is  a  good  man  even  if  I  don't  admire 
him.  This  picture  was  shown  in  the  Grand  Palais  last 
Sept.  (I  wrote  of  in  The  New  York  Times).  By  the  way, 
how  do  you  like  the  articles  now;  the  Vermeer?  In  the 
early  part  of  March  I'll  have  a  careful  study  of  a  remark- 
able playwright  Frank  Wedekind.  Do  look  at  it.  Yes, 
James  Gregg  actually  wrote  me — 10  lines.  I  was  trans- 
ported. You  must  make  a  brave  showing  at  the  big  ar- 
mory show.  And  I  wonder  if  anyone  remembers  nowa- 
days that  I  was  the  first  man  to  write  in  America  about 
Cezanne  and  Gauguin  (The  Sun  1907,  and  the  article  on 
C.  reproduced  3  years  later  in  "Promenades")??  It 
doesn't  pay  to  play  the  part  of  a  premature  prophet  in  any 
country.  I'm  reading  proofs  here  of  my  new  book.  I'll 
send  you  a  copy.  yji^i^  regards, 

James  Huneker 


TO  CHARLES  J.  ROSEBAULT  149 


To  Benjamin  de  Casseres 
,  „  Charlottenburg,  Berlin,  den  March,  8,  19 13 

LiEBER  Ben — 

Glad  to  hear  things  are  moving  with  you.  You  are 
also  in  the  "Pathos"*  (the  most  personal  book  I've  thus 
far  attempted — wait  for  a  horror  in  1915).  Haven't  seen 
Metropolitan  for  March.  The  Futurists  are  fakers,  Mar- 
inetti  a  megaphone — a  bladder.  Don't  waste  good  grey 
matter,  cortical  cells  on  such  charlatans.  My  Bergson 
is  overdue  in  The  Forum.  But  I'm  so  far  from  the  Bow- 
ery I  Read  the  Mirror  Article  with  unusual  interest. 
Why?  Because  it's  sane,  solid,  not  glancing,  verbal  rain- 
bows.   I'm  for  the  sane  Hfe — sauerkraut  and  sleep. 

Jim. 

To  Charles  J.  Rosebault 

Park-Hotel 

T^  ^  Charlottenburg,  Berlin  Germany  March  12,  1913 

Dear  Carl: 

Glad  to  hear  you  are  contemplating  a  trip  to  Spain — 
try  to  get  to  Seville  first,  though  you  will  be  too  late  for 
the  interesting  Easter  services,  as  the  festival  falls  so 
early  this  year.  But  Seville  and  Cordova  (not  to  men- 
tion the  Alhambra)  and  Toledo  are  worthwhile.  Don't 
miss  Toledo — its  the  most  original  city  in  Europe  with 
the  sole  exception  of  Prague.  Madrid  is  mediocre — save 
the  Prado  gallery.  Go  to  Hotel  Ingles  in  Madrid. 
Otherwise,  at  the  Ritz  or  Palace,  you  will  have  to  pay  by 
the  nose.  For  50  francs  a  day  for  both  you  get  board  as 
well  as  a  big  room.  Eating  out  is  not  indulged  in  at  Ma- 
drid as  the  hotel  cooking  is  the  better;  besides  cafes  are 
not  nice,  not  always  clean  and  few  waiters  speak  EngHsh. 
We  found  the  Ingles  excellent.    W.  M.  Chase  the  painter 

•"The  Pathos  of  Distance:  A  Book  of  a  Thousand  and  One  Moments." 


150    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

always  goes  there.  50  pesetas  (francs)  is  not  too  much, 
wine  inclusive.  If  Signor  Gomez  is  manager  as  he  was  in 
1909  mention  Chase's  name;  mine  he  has  probably  for- 
gotten. Go  to  Paris  via  Hendaye  on  the  luxe  train — 26 
hours  from  Madrid  to  Paris.  It's  the  only  way  and  it's 
damnably  dear;  other  trains  are  crawlers,  dirty,  smoky, 
station  food  rotten.  (Look  out  for  lice  and  bed  bugs!) 
If  you  tell  me  you  have  been  in  Spain  and  missed  Toledo 
I'll  cut  you  dead.  The  Alhambra  is  all  very  well 
but  it's  gimcrack  operatic  compared  with  the  rugged 
Toledo. 

Now  Charles,  on  receipt  of  this  drop  me  a  line,  on  a 
postal  if  you  choose,  to  tell  me  where  I  shall  send  you  my 
new  book  due  to  be  published  about  the  middle  or  end 
of  April.  It's  called  "The  Pathos  of  Distance"  (i.  e. 
distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view)  and  is  of  course 
a  phrase  of  Nietzsche's.  The  book  is  very  personal. 
And  various — mixed  pickles.  Don't  write  here  again  as 
we  may  go  soon  to  Brussels;  thence  Ireland — a  compara- 
tively unexploited  country  from  the  newspaper  point  of 
view.  I'm  reading  galley  proofs  of  my  book — 4000  miles 
away  from  the  printer — hardly  a  satisfactory  thing.  Also 
— my  German  "Chopin"  (to  appear  May,  Georg  Miiller 
Verlag,  Munich  &  Leipsic)  is  bothering  me.  Proofs  in 
German !  They  call  them  Bogen.  Wow  I  But  as  Miiller 
is  one  of  the  *Iivest'  publishers  here  I  must  be  careful. 
The  "Chopin"  may  sell — think  of  that.  Keep  the  matter 
dark.  I  won't  be  certain  till  the  book  appears.  The 
Saturday  Review  people  wrote  me  to  New  York  making 
an  offer  (thanks  to  the  offices  of  Runciman  the  music 
critic)  but  I'll  think  it  over  seriously.  I'm  tired  of  news- 
papering.  Your  news  column  was  very  interesting.  So 
Chester  Lord  has  left  The  Sun.    It's  like  "Hamlet"  with- 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  151 

out  Hamlet.  How  does  the  paper  look  and  read.  Do  you 
ever  see  my  Times  stuflf?  How  is  it  liked  by  Dithmar  and 
the  office  folks?  No  one  to  tell  me  over  here  except  my 
press-clipping  bureau  and  to  judge  by  the  numerous  clip- 
pings the  articles  must  be  read,  they  are  so  frequently 
quoted.  If  they  printed  the  Frank  Wedekind  story  I  do 
hope  you  read  it.  It  cost  me  sweat.  W.  is  a  remarkable 
man  and  dramatist.  "Friihlings  Erwachen"  is  heart- 
rending and  the  other  one-act  pieces — bully  I  He  is 
thrice  as  original  as  Sudermann.  And  witty.  And  devil- 
ish. A  scandal  breaker.  We  saw  and  heard  and  talked 
with  Arthur  Nikisch  at  the  last  Philharmonic  concert, 
A  great  man  indeed  but  his  Berlin  band  is  mediocre  com- 
pared with  the  glorious  Vienna  Philharmonic.  Opera 
poor  here,  much  bad  piano  playing.  We  shall  be  glad  to 
leave  if  only  to  escape  the  German  cuisine — heavy,  fla- 
vorless after  Austria.  Oh  for  a  cup  of  Vienna  coffee.  I've 
written  my  Prague  and  Vienna  stories  (illustrated)  but 
when  they  will  appear  I  can't  say.  In  The  Metropolitan 
Magazine  for  March  I  pay  my  respects  to  the  Italian 
Futurists  (also  illustrated).  My  Bergson  article  is  due 
in  the  March  or  April  Forum.  Tell  Ben  we  saw  the  new 
Herman  Bahr  play  "Das  Prinzip"  with  Elsa  Lehmann 
as  the  cook.  It's  not  a  second  "Concert"  as  it  has  only 
one  act — the  2nd — that  would  go  in  America;  but  Leh- 
mann!  A  woman  who  stabs  your  entrails  with  pity- 
when  she  plays  Rose  Bernd  (Hauptmann)  and  is  so 
comical  as  a  Viennese  cook  who  adores  waltzing — what 
versatility !  The  kitchen  scene  is  a  novel  setting;  other- 
wise I  can't  see  the  piece  in  English  unless  violently 
dislocated. 

Pardon  this  rigmarole.     I'm  practising  2  hours  daily 
on  a  fairly  bad  German  "grand" — nothing  but  Handel 


152    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

(the  G  Minor  fuga)  Schumann  (The  Toccata)  and  the 
C  major  study  of  Rubinstein.  Fm  seriously  studying 
tone-production  (spiel  mit  Gewicht  is  the  war  cry  now- 
adays) and  trying  to  shake  off  my  Parisian  staccato 
touch.  Vergeblich!  Regards  to  Mrs.  Rosebault  from 
both.  When  shall  we  4  meet  again — at  Pagani's  or 
Odone's?    We  will  be  in  London  from  May  ist  on. 

As  Ever,        • 

To  John  Quinn 
The  picture  referred  to  in  the  following  letter  was  a  painting  by  the 
French  artist  Auguste  Chabaud,  which  was  exhibited  in  London,  en- 
titled "Sheep  Returning  to  Pasture  After  Rain,"  and  which  Mr.  Quinn 
bought  upon  James  Huneker's  recommendation. 

Park  Hotel, 
Dear  John  Charlottenburg,  den  Mar.  13  1913. 

Enclosed  catalogue  I  found  in  my  things.  It  may  show 
you  that  Chabaud  is  not  altogether  an  unknown  over 
here.  One  thing  is  certain — his  work  is  bound  to  appre- 
ciate. He  is,  I  hear,  careless  about  money  matters,  but 
he  will  get  over  that.  His  pictures  were  too  cheap.  FII 
hold  to  my  word  and  if  I  have  the  money  and  if  I  return 
— it's  not  so  damned  certain  that  I  will — I'll  buy  the 
sheep  back  from  you.  My  business  acumen  as  an  ama- 
teur picture  dealer  has  caused  much  subdued  merriment 
within  the  bosom  of  the  family.  I  am  called  at  various 
times:  "Old  Chabaud,"  or  worse.  It  is  too  much.  How- 
ever your  letter  relieved  me  because  you  were  so  generous 
in  that  other  sale  and  I'm  hoping  that  the  stuff  will  be 
worth  triple  what  you  paid  for  it  in  a  year  or  so. 

As  to  the  MSS.,  I  suppose  you  are  right.  They  must 
have  cost  a  lot.  Keep  my  little  "Chopin"  for  sentiment's 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  153 

sake,  that  is,  unless  you  can  get  solid  gold  for  it — and  I 
have  my  doubts.* 

I  sent  James  Gregg  the  account  of  the  show  that  ap- 
peared in  the  Paris  Herald  (copied  from  the  N.  Y.  edi- 
tion). Fve  yet  to  see  his  introduction  to  the  catalogue. 
Thanks  for  the  clipping  from  the  E.  Post.  Spingarn  has 
the  socialism  bug — why  Morgan,  why  Widener ! !  How 
I  regret  you  didn't  go  to  Holland  last  Sept.  Until  you 
know  the  Ryks  Museum  in  Amsterdam  and  see  Frans 
Hals  in  all  his  glory  at  Haarlem  you  won't  appreciate 
modern  art.  There  are  no  painters  today — all  imitators. 
However  as  Wells  says,  **  better  plunder  than  paralysis." 
Do  look  at  The  MetropoHtan  Magazine  for  March.  It  has 
a  little  study  (superficial  and  hastily  written)  of  the 
"Italian  Futurists."  And  my  H.  Bergson  is  due  in  The 
Forum  for  March  and  April.  Fvejust  finished  the  proof 
of  my  new  book  and  I  hope  you  will  like  it  better  than  I 
do.  One  thing — it's  very  personal,  too  much  "ego"  in 
my  carcass,  and  I've  been  told  by  so  many  reviewers  that 
I  should  put  more  of  "myself"  in  my  work  (as  if  that 
were  possible)  that  I  let  her  rip,  so  you'will  find  cheek  by 
jowl  the  account  of  a  big  spree  I  had  in  Paris  in  1 896  in 
company  with  some  young  fellows  who  are  since  become 
famous  as  poets,  painters,  musicians,  architects,-  and 
studies  of  Synge  and  an  attack  on  Bergson.  Olla  podrida  ! 
as  they  call  a  mixed  stew  of  vegetables,  brickbats,  meat 
and  horse  dung,  in  Spain. 

Won't  you  be  coming  over  this  summer?  Wherever 
you  elect  we  shall  this  time  meet  you.  And  Augustus 
John !  What  is  his  genuine  address  or  is  he  only  a  myth? 
I  want  to  "do"  him  and  perhaps  introduce  him  to  some 

*The  catalogue  to  the  International  Exhibition  of  Modern  Art,  commonly 
called  "The  Armory  Show." 


154    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

"right"  people,  with  boodle  to  spend  in  pictures.  We 
go  to  Dublin  in  May.  I'll  hunt  up  Hugh  Lane  as  I  ex- 
pect to  write  a  Grafton  Gallery  stoT}\  "A.  E."  I'd  like 
to  meet. 

I  congratulate  on  the  the  various  Puvises.  The 
one  man  except  Vermeer  who  will  be  as  scarce  in  the 
future  as  honesty  among  politicians.  You  are  certainly  go- 
ing it.  Now  pray  don't  bother  writing  in  a  hurry  as  much 
as  we  enjoy  your  letters.     You  must  be  horribly  busy. 

Tm  going  over  to  London  now  as  I  have  a  full-fledged 
law  suit  on  my  hands — a  piffling  case  of  violation  of  in- 
ternational copyright  in  a  translation  inadvertently  used, 
and  so  my  publishers  in  London,  Chapman  &  Hall,  have 
sent  for  me.  I  have  my  own  solicitor — really  John  I'm 
getting  on  in  life !  It  won't  amount  to  much  though  its 
damned  annoying.  Don't  mention  it  even  to  Gregg,  for 
the  present.  I  only  wish  it  were  New  York.  You  would 
have  made  quick  work  of  what  is  obviously  a  hold-up.  Oh 
the  stupid  English  !  I  wish  you  might  see  my  Enghsh  edi- 
tion, nine  volumes  long,  various  pubhshers.  It  puts  to 
shame  American  book-making  because  of  its  tasteful 
binding,  light-weight  paper  and  general  solidity.  I'm 
gradually  collecting  the  entire  set,  all  of  them  still  in  the 
market  since  1899.  (T.  Werner  Laurie  has  published  5 
out  of  the  9.) 

I'm  glad  you  like  the  "Frank  Wedekind."  It  cost  me 
lots  of  bother,  many  evenings  in  theatres  and  a  visit  to 
Munich  to  see  the  extraordinary  man  (where  by  the  way 
his  publisher  Georg  Miiller  is  to  bring  out  my  "Chopin" 
in  German). 

Drop  me  a  line  later.  I  use  your  letters  to  club  the 
conscience  of  the  recalcitrant  Gregg.  Let  us  meet  in 
Holland  or  Belgium  in  Sep.    Fetch  James  G.  along.    A 


TO  EDWARD  C  MARSH  155 

dose  of  Memlings  and  Van  Eycks  at  Bruges  might  purge 

his  vision  of  the  horrible  painting  of  today. 

Mrs.  Huneker  sends  her  regards  to  you.    So  do  I. 

As  ever  r 

Jim 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

"The  Pathos  of  Distance:  A  Book  of  a  Thousand  and  One  Mo- 
ments" had  just  been  published  when  this  letter  was  written.  "How 
Widor  Played  at  St.  Sulpice"  is  one  of  its  papers  and  because  of 
sheer  excellence  Mr.  Brownell  had  urged  its  inclusion  in  the  volume 
in  spite  of  the  point  that  Mr.  Huneker  makes. 

"My  Quarter  of  an  Hour  in  Vienna"  refers  to  a  "Vortrags- 
Abend"  (music  and  reading)  at  the  Kleiner  Beethoven-Saal  in  Vi- 
enna: Mr.  Huneker's  "Musik  und  Wort"  was  the  subject  of  one 
number  on  the  programme,  and  a  reading  was  given  by  Lonta  Har- 
rel,  an  actress,  of  "Das  Vaterunser  in  B  Dur,"  a  translation  by  Lola 
Lorme  of  Mr.  Huneker's  story,  "The  Lord's  Prayer  in  B,"  which 
leads  the  short  stories  in  "Melomaniacs." 

C/o  Brown,  Shipley  &  Co. 
123  Pall  Mall 
_  _  ,  London,  W.C.  April  1913 

Dear  Marsh: 

I'm  glad  you  like  the  title;  it  has  aroused  a  lot  of  curi- 
osity which  I  fear  the  inside  of  the  machine  will  not 
allay.  For  example,  what  has  that  1896  racket  in  Paris 
(see  "How  Widor  played  at  St.  Sulpice")  to  do  with 
"pathos"?  Yet  Mr.  Brownell  was  positively  obstinate  in 
his  insistence  that  the  story  be  retained — rather  remark- 
able for  such  a  purist  as  B.  isn't  it?  It's  the  simple  nar- 
rative of  a  simple  '^spree,"  and  by  the  way  the  crowd 
all  became  well  known  later.  We  are  here  since  weeks, 
bored  to  death  with  hotels,  living  in  trunks  and  at  the 
huge  draw  on  my  fast  ebbing  funds.  We  may  go  some- 
where in  Surrey  and  retrench  or,  best  oj  all,  we  may 
return.     Homesick ! !    Oh  horribly  so.     I'm  not  onlj^  an 


156    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

American,  Fin  a  rabid  Yankee,  worse  still  Tm  a  born 
Philadelphian.  Fm  sick  of  noises,  sick  of  foreign  tongues, 
sick  of  strange  faces,  sick  of  cosmopolitanism — galling 
admission.  I  had  rather  be  a  fried  oyster  in  Philadelphia 
than  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London. 

Yes,  I've  seen  everybody  save  Masefield  and  only 
missed  him  at  the  Savage  Club  the  other  night.  Wells  is  a 
decent  chap,  so  is  Chesterton.  Any  quantity  of  invita- 
tions— an  offer  to  write  on  the  Saturday — but  what  rates 
they  pay  I  A I4  a  col.  reporter  in  N.  Y.  would  turn  up  his 
nose  at  the  prices  paid  crack  newspaper  writers.  John 
Garvin  editor  of  The  Pall  Mall  is  a  strong  man  here,  but 
take  it  by  and  large,  Joseph  Conrad  is  the  most  lovable  of 
the  lot.  I  simply  admire  him  as  man  and  artist.  G.  B.  S. 
[George  Bernard  Shaw]  is  rich  and  waxes  pompous.  IVe 
not  run  across  him.  You  may  see  by  the  May  Book- 
buyer*  that  I've  had  my  little  quarter  of  an  hour  in 
Vienna.  It  is  so.  I've  saved  the  programme  as  a  souvenir. 
My  "Chopin'*  appears  soon  in  German.  Drop  me  a  line 
Edward  Marsh  when  you  have  time  (And  excuse  the 
rhyme).    Mrs.  Huneker  asks  to  be  remembered. 

As  Ever,      j^^^^  Huneker 

To  Mme.  Frida  Asbjortb 

London  E.  C. 
Dear  Frida  May  27,  1913. 

On  our  arrival  here  from  Belgium  (I  had  to  visit  the 
Ghent  Austellung)  I  found  your  welcome  letter.  Glad 
to  know  you  are  well.  We  are  not.  Six  (6)  months  in 
Germany,  heavy  cuisine,  bad  singing,  above  all  bad  air 
in  the  concert  rooms  and  theatres  has  used  us  up;  and  now 
London  is  sweltering  at  85°  and  muggy  at  that.     Really 

*  A  literary  magazine  published  at  this  time  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


TO  MRS.   EMMA   EAMES  157 

I  long  for  Manhattan  swept  by  ocean  breezes  I  Melba  & 
Caruso  are  packing  Covent  Garden.  Yes,  I  take  much 
interest  in  music.  Evidently  you  haven't  been  reading 
the  Sunday  Times  (N.  Y.)  since  last  November.  For 
months  I  had  a  weekly  page  on  music,  art  &  literature 
in  Germany,  Vienna  &  elsewhere.  (Strauss,  "Ariadne  in 
Naxos,"  &c.)  Vm  sorry  you  missed  them.  Also — I  sent 
a  copy  of  my  new  spring  book  to  your  new  address.  Did 
you  get  it?  It  may  interest  you,  especially  several  chap- 
ters, as  it  is  largely  reminiscent.  Send  for  it  as  it  is 
surely  at  your  home.  Our  plans  are  in  the  air.  We  are 
both  sick  of  travel,  the  Missus  tired  of  living  in  trunks 
and  I  long  for  my  library  (stored  now  in  Brooklyn,  alas  !) 
We  may  go  back  soon,  Europe  for  3  months;  not  Europe 
to  live  in.  The  air  is  stuffy  (except  in  Switzerland)  and 
life  is  Slow  (except  in  Berhn  the  Chicago  of  the  continent) 
I'll  send  you  a  clipping  soon  of  a  Berlin  music  article 
of  mine  which  will  make  you  smile.  Jozia  sends  regards 
and  I  send  my  love  (Still  the  old  love  Frida !)  Now  hon- 
estly didn't  we  meet  too  late?  Poor  dear  old  Arthur  Ash- 
forth,  peace  to  his  ashes,  I  often  J:hink  of  him  and  you 
in  1888 — so  long  ago,  nevertheless  dearer  to  my  memory 
than  yesterday.  ^j^j^  renewed  love        j^^ 

To  Mrs.  Emma  Eames 

London,  June  21st,  191 3 

My  dear  Mrs.  Eames: 

I  was  very  glad  to  read  your  kind  and  too  flattering 
letter  here  this  morning — forwarded  by  my  publishers. 
The  last  time  I  saw  you  was  a  cold  day  in  January  191 2 
in  front  of  the  Savoy  Hotel,  New  York  and  you  looked, 
so  it  seemed  to  me,  extremely  well.     That  superb  stag- 


158    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

like  head  and  brilliant  eyes  were  still  there.  I've  thought 
of  you  since — and  always  with  the  regret  of  a  man  who 
has  missed  something  infinitely  sweet  and  precious,  yet 
cannot  exactly  define  it  in  precise  words.  Helas !  1895 
seems  a  long  way  off.  And  if  you  should  ever  take  up  a 
copy  of  Rossetti's  poems  you  will  find  a  little  sonnet  of 
his  that  frames  my  state  of  mind — it's  called  "Vain  Vir- 
tues" I  think,  and  it  may  suit  a  man  as  well  as  a  woman. 
We  have  been  in  Europe  for  a  year — in  Berlin  for  six 
months;  also  Austria  and  France.  I've  been  overlooking 
the  German  translation  of  my  books  beginning  with 
"Chopin."  Bored  to  death!  I  hate  rereading  my  rub- 
bish. Also — as  the  Germans  say — I  was  given  an  eve- 
ning in  Vienna  last  Dec.  for  the  public  reading  of  some 
of  my  short  stories  (of  all  things  in  German).  Thanks  be 
to  the  gods  I  wasn't  present.  I  can't  get  to  Paris  again 
for  some  time,  so  I  shan't  be  able  to  see  Emma  Fames 
(I  still  refuse  to  change  her  name).  I'm  sure  she  is  still 
the  delightful  woman  and  great  artiste  she  ever  was. 
Age  will  never  stale  her  variety.  But  I'm  aweary  of 
Europe — I'm  more  of  a  Yankee  than  I  believed.  I  like 
New  York  better  than  London  and  Dublin  better  than 
either;  old,  easy  going  Dublin  down  at  the  heels  but 
happy.  ^ 

Bonci  for  me!  I've  been  writing  since  Nov.  last  for 
the  Sunday  Times  (N.  Y.)  and  even  at  the  first  perform- 
ance of  "Ariadne  in  Naxos"  at  Stuttgart,  Oct.  24,  191 2, 
the  Strauss  melange.  It's  pretty  weak;  the  famous  col- 
oratura aria,  going  to  high  F  sharp,  is  a  supreme  parody 
of  Rossini,  Mozart  and  Meyerbeer,  not  to  mention 
Gounod  and  A.  Thomas.  Indeed,  the  work  sounds  like  a 
parody  of  Wagner  and  Strauss  himself.  Opera  in  Berlin 
— vile;  in  Vienna,  old-fashioned,  in  London,  impossible. 


TO  DR.   C   U.   ARIENS   KAPPERS         159 

My  steady  address  is  C/o  Brown  Brothers,  Bankers,  59 
Wall  Street,  New  York  City,  U.  S.  A.  But  I  hope  to  be 
in  N.  Y.  again  some  day  and  to  have  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing you  again.  . 

As  bver  bincerely, 

James  Huneker. 

To  Dr.  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 

TV  T-x       T^  Utrecht,  Holland,  Sept.  16,  1013 

Dear  Dr.  Kappers: 

It  seemed  strange  to  read  your  very  interesting  letter 
(what  idiomatic  and  fluent  English  you  write  !)  down  here 
in  Utrecht.  We  have  been  Hving  over  a  year  in  Europe 
(I  had  to  stay  6  months  in  Berlin  last  winter  editing  the 
German  translation  of  my  **  Chopin,"  the  first  of  the 
series  that  is  to  appear  in  Munich)  and  I  am  writing  for 
The  New  York  Times  about  the  new  books,  new  plays, 
music  &c.  in  Europe.  We  were  in  New  York  last  August 
for  a  few  weeks  but  the  heat  and  mosquitoes  drove 
us  to  Holland  where  I  had  to  attend  the  opening  of 
the  Vrederpaten  at  the  Haag  (that  glorious  humbug 
"Peace!'')  In  Amsterdam  where  we  stopped  off  to  see 
the  E.  N.  T.  0.  S.  our  lives  were  tormented  by  the 
very  things  that  made  New  York  impossible,  i.  e.  the 
heat  and  the  diabolical  mosquitoes.  Fearful  pests ! 
So  after  going  to  Zandvoort  from  Haarlem  every  after- 
noon for  a  week  we  came  down  here  to  sleep.  We 
sleep.  We  rest.  A  lovely  little  town  where  I  can  work 
at  peace. 

Now,  your  letter  was  a  surprise  and  I  hasten  to  answer 
it  but  not  in  detail.  I  only  want  to  ask  one  question. 
When  and  where?  For  we  must  all  meet  again  and  for 
an  afternoon  and  an  evening.     Couldn't  you  come  here 


i6o    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


next  Sunday  for  i  o'clock  luncheon,  spend  the  afternoon 
walking  and  talking,  take  dinner  at  7  or  7:30  and  then 
talk  and  drink  beer  and  you  would  still  reach  Vondel- 
park  (and  its  million  mosquitoes,  Miicken !)  before  mid- 
night. Or,  if  you  can't  come  Sunday  what  day  could 
you  come?  How  about  Saturday?  And  if  you  can't 
come  why  then  we  could  easily  go  up  to  Amsterdam  (we 
know  Holland  as  we  know  home)  and  meet  you — but 
you  are  to  be  our  guest  no  matter  whether  in  Utrecht, 
Amsterdam  or — Broek.  Do  write  me  a  line  my  dear 
friend  and  arrange  a  meeting.  Mrs.  Huneker  wishes  to 
renew  her  agreeable  acquaintance  and  so  do  I.  Anyhow 
arrange  matters  to  suit  your  convenience  as  you  are  busy 
and  I  am  not,  i.  e.,  I  can  ahvays  put  off  my  work. 
Furthermore  we  stay  for  at  least  2  weeks  more  but  the 
sooner  the  better  for  our  meeting.  We  might  meet  at 
the  Hotel  American  on  the  Leidische  plein,  in  the  cafe — 
that  is,  if  you  can't  come  to  Utrecht.  I  particularly 
want  to  speak  to  you  about  Sir  Oliver  Lodge's  speech  at 
the  British  Association,  London  on  "materialism,"  and 
also  of  DeVries  and  Schopenhauer. 

As  ever  with  kindest  regards 

James  Huneker. 

To  Doctor  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 

T^  ^  -.-  Utrecht,  Holland,  Sep  18,  IQ13 

Dear  Doctor  Kappers: 

It's  good  news  to  know  that  you  will  be  with  us  next 
Sunday,  although  we  could  just  as  easily  come  up  to 
Amsterdam.  But  I  promise  you  that  we  shall  avail  our- 
selves of  your  invitation  to  visit  the  Institute.  A  fast 
train  leaves  the  Central  Station,  Amsterdam,  at  12:25 
P.M.  reaching  here  at   1:15  p.m.     That  would  make 


TO  DR.  C   U.  ARIENS  KAPPERS         i6i 

luncheon  1:30.  This  train  passes  the  Weespen-Poort 
station  at  12:45  or  thereabouts-  It  is  the  train  that 
brought  us  here.  I'll  be  at  the  station,  here,  to  meet 
you,  not  because  you  might  get  lost  (?)  but  for  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  sooner.  I  didn't  keep  the  English 
paper  that  contained  Sir  Oliver's  retrogressive  Birming- 
ham speech  but  I  remember  not  only  the  gist  but  even 
some  sentences  of  it.  I'm  sorry  I  haven't  the  paper. 
I  want  to  show  you  Prof.  H.  V.  Buttel-Reepen's  book  (if 
you  haven't  seen  it,  but  you  must)  with  its  reproduction 
of  the  Smith  Woodward  Peltdown  Skull  (Eoanthropus 
Dawsoni)  and  ask  a  few  questions.  Woman  like,  Mrs. 
Huneker  suggests  that  there  may  be  a  Madame  Kappers 
— we  haven't  met  since  1909 — and  that's  time  enough  to 
get  a  wife!  If  so  couldn't  you  bring  her  with  you? 
If  there  is,  pardon  my  carelessness  in  not  thinking  of  it 
before.  If  I  don't  hear  from  you  to  the  contrary  I'll  be 
at  the  station  here  at  1:15  p.m.  next  Sunday  to  greet 

Sincerely  As  Ever,  t  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  Doctor  C,  U.  Ariens  Kappers 
T^  r^  T^  Utrecht,  Holland,  Oct.  2,  1913 

Dear  Doctor  Kappers: 

Thanks  for  the  pamphlet  and  picture  and  for  your 
letter.  We  were  disappointed  to  learn  that  you  could 
not  come  over  next  Saturday  till  5:30,  but  must  be  con- 
tent with  even  such  a  short  visit.  Not  knowing  the  train 
I'll  not  go  over  for  you — unless  the  portier  is  able  to  make 
an  approximate.  In  that  case  I'll  be  at  the  station. 
I've  got  through  much  of  the  De  Vries  pamphlet*  but  at 
the  close  there  are  several  pages  I'll  have  to  trouble  you 

*  A  paper  by  Hugo  de  Vries  on  Mutation. 


i62    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

to  interpret  for  me.  He  is  a  very  modest  man,  always 
speaking  more  of  Linnaeus,  Darwin  and  others  than  him- 
self. 

Again  with  thanks 

I  am  sincerely, 

James  Huneker 
Mrs.  Huneker  wishes  to  be  remembered. 

To  Doctor  C.  U.  Ariens  Kappers 

_  T^       T^  Utrecht,  Wed.  Oct.  8,  19 13 

Dear  Dr.  Kappers: 

We  both  thank  you  for  your  letter  and  hope  to  answer 
it  in  person  in  19 14.  You  certainly  do  write  wonderful 
English  (and  no  doubt  German,  French  and  Itahan). 

Thank  you  for  your  trouble  in  re  the  photograph,*  the 
one,  the  reproduction  I  mean,  will  do  I  hope.  Too  bad 
you  had  all  the  bother  for  nothing.  We  go  from  here  as 
soon  as  I  finish  that  article,  but  I've  been  delayed  by  a 
depressing  cold,  the  result  of  the  weather.  I  expect  to 
get  done  tomorrow,  then  off  to  Brussels.  I  find  I  must 
be  in  London  not  later  than  the  i8th  or  19th  inst.  and 
that  will  cut  my  visit  to  Belgium  short.  In  this  mail  un- 
der another  cover  I'm  sending  you  The  Smart  Set  with 
that  funny  story  of  Eugenics;  also  an  article  by  Mencken 
(an  American  critic  living  in  Baltimore)  on  American 
Freedom!  (I've  marked  the  page.)  In  it  you  will  learn 
some  disagreeable  truths  about  us. 

When  my  two  (2)  volumes  of  short  stories  reach  you — 
this  month  some  time — read  in  the  first  volume  "Mel- 
omaniacs"  (the  stories  therein  were  written  20  years  ago, 
the  book  appearing  in  1902)  the  first  story,  "The  Lord's 
Prayer  in  B."     It  is  a  study,  the  outcome  of  a  neuralgic 

*  A  photograph  of  Hugo  de  Vries. 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  163 

attack  in  1896,  when  I  heard  one  tone,  B.  (middle  of 
piano)  and  the  idea  that  a  person  could  be  tortured  to 
death  came  to  me.  This  story  is  in  French,  German  and 
Italian.  In  the  volume  called  "Visionaries"  the  story 
"The  Third  Kingdom"  will  please  you  best  I  know. 
Pardon  all  this  personalia,  I  wanted  to  save  you  the  bother 
of  reading  all  the  fiction. 

Mrs.  Huneker  sends  regards  as  do  I.     With  renewed 
thanks,  ^  £^^^^ 


James  Huneker 


To  John  Quinn 


Dekeyser's  Royal  Hotel,  Ltd. 

Victoria  Embankment, 

London,  E.  C. 

Dear  John:  ^^'   '  ^^^^' 

Since  I've  been  here  I've  seen  everybody  except  G. 
Moore.  Hugh  Lane — at  whose  house  I  was  last  week — 
tells  me  he  is  going  to  New  York  soon  and  that  he  has 
an  axe  in  pickle  for  you;  i.  e.  you  stole  a  march  on  the 
John  panels !  He  is  unhappy  over  it.  He's  a  good  fellow. 
Oscar  Wilde's  son  (Mr.  Holland)  took  us  to  100  Cheyne 
Walk — meaning  McFadden  and  me.  I  saw  some  fine  pic- 
tures but  learned  to  my  disgust — damn  the  Irish ! — that 
the  Harcourt  St.  Gallery  is  to  be  closed,  the  collection 
dispersed  and  the  two  magnificent  Manets  to  go — per- 
haps— to  the  National  Gallery,  London.  Isn't  that  hor- 
rible news?  And  all  on  account  of  the  Murphy — who 
failed  Parnell.  No  wonder  we  all  admire  Jim  Larkin. 
Enclosed  may  interest  you.  Pass  it  on  to  James  Gregg 
— he  would  insist  that  I  must  write  for  the  Saturday; 
while  here  in  London  nobody  reads  it  or  quotes  it. 

What's  doing  with  the  scheme?     Nothing  doing  here ! ! 


i64    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I  can't  manage  the  financial  end.  However,  I  don't  care 
much.  I'm  reading  Lever — after  a  big  dose  of  Shaw, 
Galsworthy,  &c.,  and  I'm  back  to  i860.  Went  to  the 
George  Brandes  banquet,  and  will  go  to  meet  Anatole 
France. 

London  is  horrible — fog,  gloom,  bad  cookery  and  for 
the  most  part  uninteresting  people.  I  hope  to  meet  the 
Meynells — Wilfred  and  Everard,  on  Tuesday. 

Rhoda  Symons  is  in  "Joseph  and  his  Brethren"  with 
Tree  and  Maxine  Elliott  (i.  e.  she  is  in  the  mob.  Poor 
Arthur !) 

You've  read  James  Stephens,  of  course,  "The  Crock  of 
Gold."  But  don't  miss  the  first  half  of  "Here  Are 
Ladies."  He  is  the  real  thing,  like  young  Compton 
MacKenzie  of  "Carnival"  and  "Sinester  Street"  fame. 

Otherwise,  John,  I'm  aweary.  Too  many  pictures — 
I've  seen  about  45  Johns  (and  he  is  the  only  thing  in  art 
here;  Orpen  is  not  in  it  with  him)  and  plays.  Shake- 
speare, as  you  say,  is  wearing;  so  are  Beethoven  and 
Wagner;  worst  of  all  Shaw.  (Yet  I  cackled  over  "Great 
Catharine"). 

Write  Brown  Brothers,  59  Wall  St.     I'll  get  the  letter 

just  as  swift.  A 

s  ever     j^^^^^g  Huneker 

The  Missus  is  homesick — mutters  in  her  sleep  about 
turkey,  stuffed  with  oysters.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Let  her 
go  over  alone  for  the  holidays !  Alas !  we  must  stay  for 
the  present. 


1914 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

c/o  Brown  Brothers 
59  Wall  St.  New  York  City 

Dear  Frida  Ashforth  F^^-  i9th,  1914^ 

Your  very  kind  and  characteristic  letter  followed  us  in 
Europe  and  finally  was  received  by  me  here.  We  are 
returned  a  short  time.  Glad  to  get  back  although  we 
have  no  home  as  yet  and  may  be  forced  because  of  the 
outrageous  rentals  of  apartments  to  go  to  the  suburbs. 
Any  place  that  is  quiet  and  free  from  the  crowd  that 
jostles  one  in  the  streets.  New  York  is  no  longer  New 
York.  It  is  no  longer  "Cosmopolis"  but  a  filthy  fac- 
tory town  haunted  by  the  worst  class  of  European  muck- 
ers imaginable.  I  prefer  London  (which  I  don't  like)  or 
better  still  pretty,  provincial  Brussels;  best  of  all  Hol- 
land. How  are  you?  You  sounded  in  your  letter  as 
chipper  as  a  four  year  old.  Fm  not.  I  must  begin  all 
over  again — two  years  away  from  Broadway  and  you 
are  a  stranger  here.  I'll  call  as  soon  as  we  get  a  spot  to 
place  our  few  sticks.  Mrs.  Huneker  begs  to  be  remem- 
bered.    So  do  I,  ^3  £^gj.  yQ^j.  qIj 

James  Huneker 

To  John  Quinn 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  John:  ^        March  2nd  1914 

Thanks  for  the  Epstein  head  which  I  send  in  this  mail 
— with  your  stamped  envelope  readdressed — to  the  Sun- 

165 


i66    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

day  editor.  It  may  hasten  matters  a  bit.  We,  too, 
hugely  enjoyed  our  evening,  though  I  do  wish  James 
Gregg  had  returned.  The  party  would  then  have  been 
complete.  We  are  both  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  accept 
that  invitation  for  Friday,  but  the  fact  is  we  are  both 
under  the  weather,  for  what  with  the  fatigues  and  excite- 
ment of  the  hegira  and  my  own  depressed  condition — 
mental  as  well  as  physical — we  haven't  the  strength  or 
the  spirit  to  summon  up.  (We  saw  the  opera  last  Sep. 
at  the  Comique,  Paris — poor,  drab  symbolism  and  sloppy 
music.)  Vm  glad  you've  got  the  Romilly  John  head. 
Jacob  Epstein  is  right.  The  patina  is  fine.  I  like  the 
girl's  head  very  much. 

We  are  in  much  quieter  quarters,  wonderful  view — 
white  today,  green  in  summer — cool  also,  5  stories  high, 
and  much  larger  than  the  other  apartment  (also  higher 
in  price);  above  all,  no  one  over  our  heads.  An  ideal 
place  to  write,  if  pianolas  don't  start.  Mrs.  Huneker, 
who  begs  to  be  remembered  and  sends  regrets  as  well  as 
thanks  for  your  invitation,  told  the  agent  of  the  other 
house,  quite  bluntly,  that  we  wouldn't  stay;  the  place 
was  impossible  etc.  He  said  quite  amiably  "Oh,  very 
well,  I  understand.  Go  by  all  means,"  and  he  inter- 
posed no  objections  when  we  moved  out;  indeed,  told  the 
colored  help  in  the  house  to  stir  their  stumps.  But  he 
still  holds  an  uncancelled  lease  (signed  only  by  Mrs.  H.) 
with  which  he  might  make  trouble.  I  hope  he  won't  as 
my  nerves,  like  my  bank  account,  are  shaky  to  a  degree. 
Do  what  I  will,  John,  I  feel  sad  and  isolated  down  here; 
yet  I'm  only  20  minutes  from  the  city  and  in  summer 
a  lovely  spot.     It  will  wear  off  I  hope — the  melancholy. 

A^  Ever       j^^g 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  167 

To  John  Quinn 

The  reference  to  William  Butler  Yeats  in  this  letter  followed  a 
long  evening  that  James  Huneker  spent  at  Mr.  Quinn's  apartment 
in  New  York  with  Mr.  Yeats,  who  was  then  on  a  lecture  tour  in  the 
United  States;  and  the  reference  to  George  Moore  arose  from  some 
amusing  stories  that  were  told  of  George  Moore  at  that  meeting. 

Westminster  Court  (also  a  Court,  but  not 
^on  the  majestic  scale  of  the  Georgian) 
Dear  John:  Brooklyn  May  9,  19 14 

Only  a  belated  line  to  answer  your  very  interesting 
letter,  with  its  budget  of  real  news.  Entre  nous,  I  had 
fancied  that  Yeats  disliked  me — merely  a  nervous  im- 
pression. I'm  so  busy  and  so  worn  out  that  I  let  my  cor- 
respondence shde.  You  must  pardon  me.  The  "Joseph 
Conrad"  (4000  words)  is  finished,  Deo  gratias!  What  a 
job — yet  written  from  my  heart.  I  love  the  man,  I  love 
the  great  artist,  but  to  write  something  that  wouldn't  be 
in  the  banal  key  of  "journalistic"  praise  (the  fool's  face 
of  praise!)  like  the  last  pair  of  "stories"  I  read,  was 
sheer  labor.  I'm  not  pleased  with  the  result.  Puck  has 
trebled  its  circulation.  Money  is  being  spent,  and  lib- 
erally. The  country  is  lovely.  What  joy  to  walk  un- 
der green,  to  breathe  real  air  and  see  the  sky-Hne.  I've 
a  new  Steinway  grand  and  feel  at  home.  Of  course  we 
must  take  that  trip — Mrs.  "Barkis  is  willin"  and  so  is 
Barkis.  On  the  water  wagon — first  time  in  my  long  and 
thirsty  career.  Don't  even  miss  my  beer — but  dream  of 
its  color  and  density  betimes.  Gregg  must  be  with  us  on 
the  trip.  I  miss  him  more  than  he  misses  us !  We  did 
have  such  long  discussions  and  so  many,  many  long 
drinks  at  short  intervals.  You  see  I'm  saving  up  a 
lovely  thirst.     Missus  sends  regards.     So  do  I. 

As  Ever  j,^ 


i68    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

To  Rupert  Hughes 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Rupert  ^^  ^^'  ^^^^ 

The  Puck  magazine  is  under  new  management  (owned 
by  Nathan  Straus,  Jr)  and  I  intend  a  weekly  page  (the 
Seven  Arts)  and  expect  to  soon  print  a  book  review 
number — you,  Shaw  (G.  B.  S.),  Galsworthy,  Chambers, 
Strunsky  and  Owen  Johnson — no  more.  Won't  you, 
therefore,  please  send  me  to  above  address  (I'm  in  the 
country  since  my  return  from  Europe  after  2  years'  ab- 
sence) your  last  novel,  of  which  I  hear  nothing  but  good 
things.  Not  only  will  I  write  of  it — not  necessarily  choc- 
olate bon-bons ! — but  I'll  send  in  return  my  "  Pathos  of 
Distance,"  i.  e.  if  you  care  to  have  a  copy.  I've  not  seen 
you  for  years  but  I  read  of  you,  and  with  pleasure. 
You've  arrived  with  both  feet  and  here  am  I  still  an  in- 
different critic  of  other  men's  books  and  pictures  and 
music.  But  I  don't  weep.  Let  me  have  your  best  ad- 
dress.    Tell  your  publishers  to  hurry  up  that  book.     The 

new  Puck  is  a  big  hit.  .     t-        \r        r  •     j 

°  As  Ever  Your  iriend 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Marsh:  ■'""'  '^'  '»'* 

The  last  time  we  met  I  spoke  to  you  of  re-reading  for 
the  purpose  of  writing  a  long  article  about  Dostoievski 
but  had  to  write  a  somewhat  elaborate  study  of  J.  Conrad 
&c.  At  last  I've  finished  the  "Conrad"  (what  pleasure 
to  reread  him!)  and  also  a  fiction  article  for  Puck  (June 
23rd  it  appears — i.   e.   next  week)   which  includes  the 


TO  EDWARD  C.   MARSH  169 

names  of  Katharine  Gerould,  Dreiser,  R.  Hughes,  Owen 
Johnson  and  R.  Chambers  (not  such  easy  reading  as 
Conrad !)  and  now  I'm  anxious  to  begin  a  comparative 
study  of  "Dostoievsky  and  Tolstoy"  (note  the  order)  for 
my  19 1 5  book  but  will  try  to  sell  it  in  periodical  form 
beforehand.  You  were  good  enough  to  say  that  I  could 
get  what  review  notices  I  needed  of  your  new  edition  of 
Dostoievsky  and  behold  me  again  at  your  elbow  solicit- 
ing. I  found  enclosed  from  a  leaflet  in  Agnes  Repplier's 
"Philadelphia"  (your  travel  series)  and  I've  marked  what 
I  already  own.  I  bought  the  M.M.  edition  of  "The 
Possessed"  and  own  a  copy  of  "The  Idiot"  in  the  old 
Heinemann  translation.  Naturally,  I  have  Dostoievsky 
complete  in  French — well-worn  paper  copies,  even  his 
"Sosia"  (not  a  great  book).  But  "The  Friend  of  the 
Family"  and  "The  Gambler"  &.c.  I  would  like  to  have 
"Brothers  Karamazov"  and  the  other  two — if  they  are 
out.  ril  mention  the  Garnett  translation,  of  course.  At 
your  leisure. 

Do  you  see  Puck?  It  has  vastly  improved.  This  week 
(tomorrow)  I've  a  little  talk  on  Socialism.  I  write  of 
"The  Seven  Arts,"  pretty  wide  in  latitude.  How  are 
you  and  the  Missus!  Is  the  houseboat  in  commission? 
I'm  in  the  Green,  up  5  stories,  beautiful  view,  real  land- 
scape, 10  minutes  from  the  ocean,  20  minutes  from  the 
sea.  A  new  Steinway  grand  and  all  my  books  and  pic- 
tures— Europe  and  globe-trotting  be  damned!  I'm  a 
fixture  now.  I  had  a  modern  music  article  in  the  May 
Century  and  will  have  some  travel  stuff  in  July  Forum; 
also  in  the  Scribner  "Field  of  Art"  section,  a  little  study 
of  new  art  tendencies,  July  number  I  hope.  I'm  busy 
besides — a  100,000  word  book  for  next  Spring,  most  of 
it  to  be  written  and  a  lot  of  newspaper  work  (N.  Y. 


170    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Times)  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia.     (The  Repplier 
book — your  house — is  charming) 

With  regards  and  auj  wiederseben 

I  am  As  Ever  Yours, 

James  Huneker 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 

Westminster  Court, 

Dear  Marsh:  ""^  ^^^^^ 

Vm  obhged  to  you  for  your  very  swift  response.  The 
books  came  last  night  and  I  was  sorry  to  see  that  you 
sent  me  "The  Idiot,'*  for  I  had  a  copy  of  the  Whishaw 
translation  in  the  now  "precious"  edition  of  Vizetelly. 
Shall  I  return  it?  Your  edition  of  "The  Possessed"  I 
bought  on  my  return,  and  Vm  glad  to  get  the  "Kara- 
mazovs"  for  it  is  really  the  first  time  I  saw  it  in  print. 
I  had  expected  instead  of  "Idiot,'*  "Crime  &  Punish- 
ment" but  I  suppose  it  isn't  out  yet.  I  am  curious  to 
know  if  Mrs.  Garnett  will  translate  the  2nd  part — hitherto 
only  in  Russian  &  French.  Are  you  going  to  republish 
"Injury  and  Insult"  (Les  humilies)?  It  is  not  the  best 
Dostoievsky;  but  "Poor  Folk"  is,  though  it  is  in  Enghsh 
for  20  years  or  more  with  a  foolish  preface  by — George 
Moore,  of  all  men.  My  personal  opinion  is  that  "The 
Gambler,"  a  long  short  story,  is  about  the  best  thing  D. 
ever  wrote — I  mean  for  the  public.  Vizetelly  printed 
it  in  conjunction  with  "A  Friend  of  the  Family'*  (the 
title  of  the  volume)  and  a  very  Dickens-ish  story  it  is; 
but  "The  Gambler"  is  a  masterpiece.  Ten  years  ago 
I  made  a  scenario  of  it,  and  it  still  lies  in  my  desk.  I'm 
in  for  a  Russian  summer — apparently,  without  caviar  or 
beer  (alas  I)  I'm  doing  a  story  for  a  magazine  on  Mous- 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  171 

sorgsky  ("Boris  Goodunoff")  playing  all  his  unpianistic 
music — very  characteristic;  reading  an  Enghsh  Dostoiev- 
sky and  trying  to  wade  through  the  awful  "religious?" 
rot  of  Tolstoy.  Decidedly  my  Judgment  of  25  years 
ago  holds  good;  indeed,  is  being  verified  critically  i.e. 
Dostoievsky  is  the  real  thing;  Tolstoy  is  an  amateur  in 
life  by  comparison.  But — the  bigger  artist,  and  Tur- 
genev  tops  both  as  a  writer.  Pardon  all  this  Russo- 
phihsm  !    Again  thanks  for  your  courtesy ! 

As  Ever  Your  friend 

James  Huneker 

To  John  Quinn 

The  book  on  Joseph  Conrad  referred  to  in  this  letter  was  a  critical 
and  biographical  volume  by  Richard  Curie. 

Westminster  Court, 
161 8  Beverly  Road,  Brooklyn 

Dear  John:  June  30, 1914  (n  p.m.) 

Your  letter  and  the  books  came.  Thanks !  The  *  Nig- 
ger' is  nicely  got  up  and  for  me  a  treat,  as  I  had  never 
read  the  1897  Preface — an  artistic  Credo !  But  the  Life 
gave  me  a  shock.  I've  Just  finished  it,  flesh,  blood, 
bones,  to  the  tip  of  its  Tail.  The  particular  shock  was 
to  find  that  the  author  (surely  he  must  be  very  young, 
he  is  so  enthusiastic)  has  anticipated  several  Judgments 
which  are  in  my  poor  little  pale  sketch  (finished  in 
April),  and  so  it  will  appear  still-born  in  the  N.  A.  Re- 
view. And  you  are  witness  that  I  never  saw  the  clever 
chap's  book,  nor  heard  of  it,  till  today !  Well,  it's  all 
right.  I  had  thought  that  my  contention  concerning 
Nostromo  was  all  my  own.  Alas !  there  are  other  critics 
of  discernment  in  the  world,  (Aha  i)     Also  the  Flaubert, 


172    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Dostoievsky  comparisons;  however,  he  read  my  "visit" 
to  J.  C.  [Joseph  Conrad]  in  The  Times  (191 2)  but  worked 
out  the  themes  to  adequate  conclusions.  But  I  wish  he 
hadn't  quoted  from  that  story  what  he  did — it  makes  me 
praise  J.  C.  obhquely,  by  negatives.  So  it  goes.  If  you 
wait  too  long,  the  other  fellow  gets  ahead  of  you  and 
beats  you  into  the  bargain.  I've  no  hope  of  again  see- 
ing my  MS.  till  its  contents  are  set  up  in  type.  So  I'll 
be  accused — but  this  is  much  ado  about  nothing.  I'll 
tell  J.  C.  if  I  ever  see  him.  Aside  from  the  too  sweeping 
comparisons  (it's  wrong  to  drag  in  living  writers  like 
H.  James,  Shaw,  Galsworthy,  Wells,  &c.)  the  book  is  of 
thorough  workmanship.  I  like  its  generous  glow.  Be- 
sides, where  is  his  like  today,  Joseph  Conrad!  And  to 
think  in  my  puerile  fatuity  (my  intellect  is  very  callow) 
I  spoke  of  Conrad  as  being  in  the  company  of  Meredith, 
James,  Hardy !  What  I  should  have  said  is:  *  J.  C.  makes 
the  fifth  of  a  quintette  of  the  world's  greatest  writers  of 
fiction:  Flaubert,  Turgenev,  Tolstoy  and  Dostoievski.' 
But  a  truce ! 

Yes,  Saturday  was  precisely  one  of  those  days  that  will 
ripen,  mellow,  with  the  years  in  our  memories.  Even 
the  coda  of  the  day's  symphony  (surely  an  allegretto  gra- 
ciosa,  in  at  least  one  movement)  was  inevitable — EI 
Greggo*  had  to  go;  and  he  didn't  go!  So  no  perfection 
was  absent  in  the  ensemble.  Never,  never,  John,  let  us 
attempt  to  repeat  the  experience;  that  way  disillusion 

lies.  A  •        A 

Au  revoir.     As  ever  j 

*  Frederick  James  Gregg. 


TO   RUPERT  HUGHES  173 

To  John  Quinn 

161 8  Beverly  Road 
Brooklyn,  July  3,  19 14 

Dear  John: 

I  agree  with  you  covering  Ulster.  The  same  flabby 
irresolution  that  characterizes  Asquith's  treatment  of 
women  is  to  the  fore  in  his  Irish  policies.  Poor  Erin — 
Go  hang ! 

You  misunderstood  me,  or  else  I  didn't  make  my  mean- 
ing clear.  It  is  the  fact  that  Curie  and  I  agree  on  so 
many  points  that  I  regret  seeing  his  book  ahead  of  me 
(purely  literary  selfishness  !).  I  shan't  correct  my  proof, 
because  I've  no  changes  to  make.  It's  the  coincidence. 
Well,  what  does  the  best  criticism  amount  to  in  the  end 
— I'm  referring  to  Curie,  not  to  my  poor  enthusiasms ! 
Words,  w^ords,  words.  I'm  daily  convinced  that  irony  is 
the  only  shield  to  wear  as  a  cuirass  against  the  ineluctable 
stupidities  of  old  world.  And  it  makes  its  wearer  con- 
ceited and  hard-hearted.  I'll  return  some  day  to  rum 
and  music — my  best  friends,  because  they  demand  noth- 
ing from  me  but  a  stout  bladder  and  brave  ears.     Happy 

4th  for  yours!  a^  «,r«,. 

^^^^"^  James 

To  Rupert  Hughes 

161 8  Beverly  Road 
Dear  Rupert  July  27/14 

A  line  to  tell  you  that  I  was  very  much  pleased  with 
your  letter  and  hope  the  new  book  will  be  a  success — it 
will  be,  of  course.  (But  look  out  for  the  soft-pedal  and 
the  tremolo  stop,  old  man!  They  hit  the  public  in  the 
midriff,  but  in  art  they  must  be  sparingly  used.  Don't 
mind  this  wag  from  a  graybeard.) 


174    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Now — Fm  disturbed  about  "Sal."  I  had  fancied 
from  an  earlier  letter  of  yours  that  you  had  admitted  the 
authorship  (God  knows  old  pal  it's  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of,  that  remarkable  story).  Besides  it  appeared  in  1898 
—the  year  of  the  demise  of  "M'lle  New  York.'*  Both 
Vance  and  I  (V.  T.  has  once  more  returned  to  Europe !) 
were  tired  of  denying  that  we  (either  the  one  or  the  other) 
were  its  author.  Still  I'm  sorry  I  blabbed  and  ask  your 
pardon  for  my  tactlessness. 

By  the  way,  F.  P.  A.  (in  The  Tribune)  caught  me  in 
the  "Triangle."  What  year  was  it  put  on?  The  last  act 
I  recall;  it  simply  froze  me — but  the  foreground  is  murky 
in  my  memory.  Let  me  know.  I  hate  to  acknowledge 
that  I  forget  things.  But  I  do.  My  memory,  like  my 
hair  and  teeth,  is  disintegrating. 

Cordially  as  ever 

Jim  Huneker 

P.  S.     Salt  your  boodle,  Bill ! ! 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 

This  letter  relates  to  the  contents  and  the  title  of  Mr.  Huneker's 
"Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks,"  published  in  1915. 

Westminster  Court,  161 8  Beverly  Road 
__  ■» ,       f-k  Brooklyn,  Dec.  22/14 

Dear  Mr.  Brownell: 

I  would  rather  go  in  and  talk  to  you  about  the  ques- 
tions in  your  very  kind  letter  of  today  but  as  I  was  the 
victim  of  a  distressing,  though  luckily  a  superficial  acci- 
dent Sunday  a  week  ago  (a  taxi  skidded  in  the  rain  and 
threw  me  against  the  glass  front:  item  a  broken  nose, 
dented  rib,  two  sprained  thumbs,  eyes  in  mourning, 
gashed  chin — blood,  above  all  I  and  severe  nervous  shock). 
I  will  wait  till  next  week,  say  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  and 
settle  the  questions  &c.     In  the  meantime  your  sugges- 


TO  W.  C  BROWNELL  175 

tions  are,  as  usual,  valuable.  I  had  marked  for  slaughter 
the  Conrad  interview,  the  Dr.  Nordau,  the  Rodin  and  the 
Puvis — the  last  two  as  superfluous  in  a  book  of  this  sort. 
(Both  have  been  critically  done  to  the  death.)  But  the 
Dostoievsky-Tolstoy  I  can't  reduce — it  is  the  only  original 
matter  in  the  book;  not  alone  the  point  of  view^  but  the 
consideration  of  the  new  men.  My  God !  Mr.  Brownell, 
nothing  so  positively  terrific  and  human  since  Dostoievsky 
has  appeared  like  this  new  man  Artzibashev.  I  wrote  a 
review  of  him,  ten  years  ago  in  The  Sun  and  I  keep  on 
adding  whenever  I  can  get  a  book  of  his  in  German  or 
French.  "Sanine"  is  a  masterpiece.  Have  you  read  it? 
I  have  it  for  you  if  you  wish.  Indeed,  the  book  pivots 
on  the  Russian  study — the  rest  is  conversation.  I  must 
apologize  for  the  false  trail  of  the  title.*  I  made  the  error. 
I  searched  Shakespeare  the  last  ten  days  while  indoors 
but  in  vain.  I  was  preparing  for  Marlowe,  even  Keats, 
and  then  the  Bible.  I'm  obliged  for  the  tip.  Your 
young  man  in  the  shop,  Mr.  Lewis  Hatch,  whose  memory 
for  names  borders  on  the  miraculous  looked  vainly  in  the 
Shakespeare  Concordance.  He  admires  the  rich,  fruity 
flavor  of  the  verbal  CoHocation  and  dismayed  me  by  re- 
marking: "Yes,  a  volume  of  musical  essays  by  a  London 
woman  who  signs  herself  ^Israfel'  came  out  about  twenty 
years  ago  entitled,  'Ivory,  Apes  and  Peacocks.'"  I  felt 
sick.  And  there  is  a  volume  of  verse  by  one,  WaHer, 
same  exotic  title,  published  1871.  Now,  while  a  quota- 
tion from  the  Scriptures  may  be  used  by  anybody,  I  don't 
care  to  poach  on  another's  preserves,  especiafly  after  the 
recent  London  experience  with  that  translation  in  "The 
Pathos."     So  we  may  have  to  revise  the  title;  either 

*  I  Kings  10:22  reads:  "For  the  King  [Solomon J  had  at  sea  a  navy  of  Tharsish, 
with  the  navy  of  Hiram;  once  in  three  years  came  the  navy  of  Tharsish  bringing 
gold  and  silver,  ivory  and  apes  and  peacocks."  John  Marsfield  used  "ivory, 
apes  and  peacocks"  without  quotation  meirks. 


176    LETTERS  OF  JAMES   GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

change  a  word  of  the  three  names,  or  else  relegate  it  to 
second  place,  such  as  "A  Book  of  Ivory  Apes  and  Pea- 
cocks." A  short  crisp  word  might  serve  for  general  title 
such  as  "Evocations:  A  Book  of  &c.,  &c."  Or,  tout 
simple — "Ivory  Apes  and  Anarchs!"  God  knows  there 
are  plenty  of  anarchs  in  my  list,  though  without  Nordau 
I'll  be  shorn  of  an  ape.  However,  I'm  not  sorry  to  lose 
him.  What  you  say  as  to  the  price  is  pertinent — I  don't 
think  it  does  make  much  difference  whether  the  book  is 
$1.50  or  $2.00 — my  books  don't  sell  anyhow.  I  think 
with  the  above  articles  cut  the  book  will  be  of  the  right 
length  (and  the  title  we  can  discuss — it  can  be  quickly 
settled).  The  terms  are  agreeable.  I  fancy  I  had  better 
fetch  you  the  other  book  which  is  quite  ready  (barring 
about  100  words  for  the  Dostoievsky  article — his  letters 
are  just  out)  and  let  you  read  it  at  leisure.  It  is  rank, 
common,  voluble,  even  vulgar,  yet  it  will  be  the  book  of 
the  pair,  and  should  have  precedence  over  the  other.  If 
it  could  be  illustrated  by,  say,  Mielatz,  whose  New  York 
streets  and  corners  and  back  alleys  were  the  supplement 
of  last  Sunday's  Sun,  all  the  better.  Otherwise  it  could 
sell  at  $1,50  for  at  least  it  touches  on  human  topics  from 
rum  to  the  harbors  of  New  Cosmopolis,  from  art  to  the 
purlieus  of  the  East  Side — sheer,  shallow  impressionism, 
journalism,  and  of  the  popular  brand  (I  suspect).  That 
I  loathe  the  book  need  not  blind  you  to  its  possible  selling 
capacity.  I've  one  section  entitled:  "Certain  European 
Cities  before  the  War";  and,  mirabile  dictu!  I've  written 
my  first  preface  for  the  blithering  stuff — a  few  hundred 
words,  yet  a  genuine  preface  to  go  at  the  head,  not  the 
tail,  of  the  opus.  Pardon  my  prolixity — and  read  this  in 
sections.     I'll  leave  or  send,  the  other  mss.  to  you. 

Sincerely, 

James  Huneker 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  177 

To  John  Quinji 

The  reference  In  the  latter  part  of  this  letter  to  Joseph  Conrad's 
safe  return  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Conrad  was  visiting  Poland 
with  his  wife  and  sons  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  had  great  diflS- 
culty  in  getting  back  to  England. 

1 61 8  Beverly  Road 

Dear  John:  °^^-  ''^'* 

Your  letter  made  me  laugh  for  the  first  time  in  10  days, 
even  more,  for  I've  been  indoors  since  Sunday  a  week 
ago,  ill  from  a  bad  smash  up  I  was  in  at  11:30  Sunday 
morning  in  the  rain  in  a  skidding  taxi,  cold  sober  and 
perfectly  healthy.  Possibly  your  friend's  accident  and 
the  horrible  death  of  my  old  friend  Richard  Canfield  a 
few  days  before  made  me  the  victim  of  imitation.  At 
all  events  my  nose  is  broken,  a  rib  is  splintered,  both 
thumbs  sprained,  chin  gashed,  eyes  like  poached  eggs, 
two  good  teeth  gone — my  bridgework  went  to  pieces ! — 
and  sadly  shaken  nerves.  I  took  the  air  yesterday. 
Your  letter,  as  I  say,  consoled  me  in  the  evening.  You 
don't  begin  to  know  the  condition  among  writers.  I've 
sold  nothing  since  Sept.  but  2  wretched  little  fictions 
(still  to  get  the  cheques !)  If  it  were  not  for  my  weekly 
job  I'd  be  on  the  town.  No  thanks!  I  don't  care  to 
see  the  man  you  mention.  I  can  go  nowhere  till  after 
the  hohdays.  I'm  shaky  on  my  pins;  worse  still  I'm 
lame  spiritually.  Why  the  hell  I  should  be  dumped  for 
accepting  an  innocent  invitation  from  a  friend  on  a 
rainy  Sunday  morning  I  can't  say.  I  no  longer  believe 
in  my  Irish  good  luck.  And  that's  bad.  My  friend 
wasn't  scratched,  while  I,  sitting  beside  him  was  thrown 
like  a  bombshell  against  the  front  of  the  machine.  So 
there  you  are.     But  I'll  be  all  right  in  10  days.     I  looked 


1 78    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

for  a  while  very  like  the  caricature  of ,  the  nose 

especially.  No,  I  don't  know  when  the  Dostoievsky 
article  will  be  printed.  Macmillan  sent  me  the  letters 
— Fve  written  a  paragraph  in  Puck  about  them.  They 
are  eye-openers.  You  have  at  times  a  hard  row  to  hoe 
but  there  are  certain  compensations.  I  have  leisure  and 
no  money,  so  Fm  the  man  without  a  hoe.  I  saw  the 
show  and  wrote  a  line — more  I  couldn't  physically  do 
(I  can't  dictate).  It  is  a  good  show,  but  the  damnable 
nuisance  of  writing  3  weeks  ahead  of  publication  often 
forces  me  to  curtail  notices.  For  books  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter— but  theatres,  concerts,  opera,  picture  exhibitions,  it 
is  a  thorn  in  the  flesh.  What  to  do?  Nothing.  Times 
are  hard.  Saw  wood.  I've  had  letters  from  2  fronts, 
French  (Edward  Ziegler  of  the  Galerie  Rheinhardt)  and 
from  Poland.  I  prefer  New  York.  It's  good  news  to 
hear  of  J.  Conrad's  safe  return.  Also  about  the  proba- 
ble A.  John  show  here.  I'll  let  you  know  about  my 
books — one  has  been  accepted;  the  other  is  on  the  laps 
of  the  gods.  A  prosperous  New  Year,  my  dear  chap,  is 
the  wish  of  the  Huneker  tribe.    A  merry  Christmas  this 

is  not  for  us.  » 

As  ever  j 

Jim 


1915 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Mr.  Henry  L.  Mencken,  journalist,  author  and  editor  of  The  Smart 
Set,  was  one  of  Mr.  Huneker's  most  appreciative  and  sympathetic 
critics.  Mr.  Huneker  was  in  close  touch  with  him  during  the  last 
few  years  of  his  life,  not  only  as  a  contributor  to  The  Smart  Set,  in 
which  a  number  of  his  stories  were  published,  but  as  a  friend. 

1618  Beverly  Road 

Dear  Mencken: 

As  you  suggest  Thursday  or  Friday,  let  us  make  it 
Friday  at  i  p.  m.  Where?  The  challenged  party  in  the 
code  duello  has  the  choice  of  w^eapons;  nevertheless,  let 
me  ask  you — Italian,  French,  German  or  American? 
If  German — Liichows  on  14th  St.  (but  as  we  drink  beer 
later  why  not  begin  elsewhere).  If  American — Jack's; 
but  it's  a  case  of  coals  going  to  Newcastle  to  ask  a  Balti- 
morean  to  eat  seafood.  What  can  Jack  offer  you  ?  (yet 
you  may  have  a  Friday  palate  and  there  is  lobster  fat — 
pyramids — crab  meat  a  la  Jack,  and  other  supreme  golly- 
gubs).  French?  Then  old  Martin's  cor.  9th  &  Univer- 
sity Place.  (The  Lafayette  is  barred  because  of  the 
** literary"  crowd.  /  distinctly  refuse  to  bring  a  sensitive 
newspaper  man  into  such  a  circle.)  Remains — Italian. 
I  know  of  a  place,  Frank  Busto's  44  Beaver  St.  same 
block  as  down-town  Delmonico's  (you  get  off  subway  at 
Bowling  Green  and  walk  north  two  blocks)  good  spa- 
ghetti, gnocchi,  &c.  risotto,  pastas  &c.  Chianti.  And 
it's  only  round  the  corner  from  Dr.  Knirim's  Sanitarium 
— in  Hanover  Square.     But  it's  down  town  and  may  in- 

179 


i8o    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

terfere  with  Nathan's  or  your  plans.  Ask  Nathan  if  he 
knows  a  "retreat."  We  must  talk  as  well  as  guzzle  and 
gobble.     Let  me  know  by  Thursday.    Sir  to  you ! 

As  ever,  j   tt 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 

Westminster  Court 
Dear  Mr.  Brownell  Jan.  11/15 

The  book  "Sanine"  I  must  apologize  for  not  bringing 
sooner.  You  may  not  be  a  friend  of  Russian  fiction.  I 
am.  The  young  writer — this  was  published  in  Russia  in 
1905 — has  made  a  synthesis  of  the  style  and  matter  of 
Tolstoy,  Dostoievsky  and  Turgenev.  Their  trail  is  on 
every  page;  yet  it  is  a  remarkable  book,  full  of  the  pro- 
found sadness,  the  immemorial  sadness  and  revolt  of  the 
Slav.  What  a  literature !  It  is  as  poignant  as  Russian 
music;  emotional,  half  mad,  sickly,  sinister,  and  sadistic. 
I  have — in  the  German  tongue — his  other  novels.  Gorki 
is  a  child  playing  childishly  with  colored  blocks  in  com- 
parison with  this  unhappy  consumptive  in  the  Caucasus. 
Don't  hurry  and  save  the  book  till  I  come  in  and — please 
don't  be  altogether  repelled  by  some  of  the  episodes;  the 
hint  at  incest,  the  rape — which  DeMaupassant  couldn't 
better.  I  also  return,  really  for  safe  keeping  the  "  Ivory 
A.  &  P."*  with  the  dedication  added  and  the  4  articles 
extracted.  A  head  of  Dostoievsky  after  Valloton  I  put 
on  top.  It  is  after  the  well  drawn  photograph,  but  the 
massive,  morbid  character  is  not  missing,  presumably  be- 
cause of  the  excellent  management  of  lights  and  darks. 
It  is  the  only  portrait  of  Dostoievsky  that  ever  pleased, 
as  his  interpretation  of  Poe  pleases  me.  He  is  terribly 
mannered,  but  clever.     I  don't  fancy  I  will  trouble  you 

*  -'  Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks." 


TO  LAWRENCE  OILMAN  i8i 


about  the  MSS.  again,  though  I  may  before  June  add  a 
few  hundred  words  on  Vermeer  or  Matisse.  But  I'm 
not  sure.  The  lopping  off — or  rather  disembowelling  of 
poor  Clarence  at  Water  Witch  didn't  keep  me  awake. 
It  had  to  be.  But  I  am  glad  over  the  inclusion  of  the 
Belgium  and  the  Dublin.  I  await  proof  with  fortitude — 
at  your  leisure.  Sincerely  as  ever 

James  Huneker 

To  Lawrence  Gilman 

The  "new  book"  was  Mr.  Gilman's  "Nature  and  Music,"  con- 
taining studies  of  Claude  Debussy  and  Charles  Martin  Loeffler,  the 
Alsatian-American  composer. 

Westminster  Court,  1618  Beverly  Road 
Brooklyn 
,  Feb.  I  (Monday),  191$ 

Dear  Gilman: 

Your  new  book  came  yesterday  (rather  I  read  it  Sun- 
day) and  I  devoured  it  from  cover  to  cover.  It's  bully 
good  stuff  and  I  intend  saying  so  in  Puck  within  a  month. 
I  am  with  you  in  most  of  your  estimates — Strauss,  De- 
bussy— especially  Grieg — which  is  the  fair,  not  the  Finck- 
ian,  course. 

And  how  well  you  write.  Where  did  you  pick  up  your 
style?  (This  is  a  plagiarism,  this  sentence,  and  doesn't 
mean  that  you  are  in  the  least  Thackerayan — who  would 
rub  his  round  moon  eyes  if  he  read  what  you  write  about 
Debussy.)  What  fun  he  would  poke  at  that  man,  or  at 
LoefHer !  which,  by  the  way,  is  one  of  the  best  things  in 
the  book.  I  wish  I  had  written  it !  I  love  Loeffler's  art. 
It  is  unique.  Cordially, 

James  Huneker 


1 82    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  W.  C.  Brownell 

1618  Beverly  Road,  Brooklyn 

Dear  Mr.  Brownell  ^^^^ 

Thank  you  for  the  cheque  from  Messrs.  Scribners, 
which  is  welcome.  Nowadays  a  cheque  is  a  benison. 
Oddly  enough  the  "Iconoclasts"*  remains  the  "best 
seller"  in  my  little  collection  of  clotted  nonsenses;  and  it 
is  the  worst  I  have  thus  far  perpetrated!  The  hunger 
for  propaganda  in  America  is  ferocious — and  grotesque. 
I  really  believe  if  I  went  in  for  the  solemn  mystic  twad- 
dle I  might  have  more  fame,  more  money  (I  have  neither, 
as  a  matter  of  fact).  Consider  the  case  of  Elbert  Hub- 
bard! "Tu  I'avez  voulu"  is  right.  I  write:  "as  they 
say,"  in  the  sense  of  "on  dit"  or  "man  sagt,"  a  collo- 
quialism, and  not  literally.  But  it  can  be  changed.  By 
the  way,  I  altered  "A  Book  of  Cities,"  f  subtitle,  to  "A 
Book  of  Images"  as  being  not  only  more  appropriate, 
but — it  avoids  repetition  on  the  title  page  of  the  word 
"Cities"  (an  ugly  word !)  "Certain  European  Cities"  etc. 
It  also  dodges  the  alhteration  of  Cosmopolis  &  Cities; 
while  Images,  its  *m'  echoes  the  *m'  in  Cosmopohs. 
How  is  that  for  verbalistic  nonsense.  I  return  herewith 
the  page-proofs.  The  velocity  with  which  this  book  has 
been  read  is  sufficient  comment  on  its  absolute  empti- 
ness. Verh.  sap!  With  thanks  for  your  abiding  inter- 
est—  I  am  sincerely 

James  Huneker 

•"Iconoclasts:  A  Book  of  Dramatists." 

t  "The  New  Cosmopolis:  A  Book  of  Images." 


TO  LAWRENCE  OILMAN  183 


To  Lawrence  Gilman 

The  "Color  Symphony"  referred  to  was  Scriabine's  "Prome- 
theus," which  had  been  performed  a  few  weeks  before  by  the  Russian 
Symphony  Orchestra,  with  the  use  of  the  "clavier  a  lumieres,"  for 
the  first  time  in  New  York. 

1 61 8  Beverly  Road:  Brooklyn 
April  8/15 
Dear  Gilman: 

I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  you  were  ill,  and  I  hope  I  didn't 
seem  exigent.  Several  complained  that  they  hadn't  re- 
ceived their  copies*  and  I  determined  to  find  out.  As  for 
your  prose,  my  boy,  even  your  letters  show  you  a  mas- 
ter; not  to  mention  your  finesse.  Oddly  enough,  today, 
a  few  hours  before  your  letter  I  had  just  finished  a  brief 
note  on  your  book.  It  is  slated  for  the  special  Spring 
number,  Monday,  May  3rd. 

I  reread  your  pages f — I'm  not  as  much  a  Debussy  man 
as  a  Loefiler.  He  is  our  "music-maker  now";  at  least  in 
America.  I've  written  for  next  Monday  in  Puck  a  story 
about  Ornstein — truly  a  nerve-shatterer  and  a  wonder; 
and  for  April  19,  a  parody  on  the  "Color  Symphony." 
By  the  way,  he  is  the  only  Russian  who  is  writing  "new" 
stuff,  this  Scriabine.  In  my  forthcoming  collection  of 
Romantic  Preludes  and  Studies  (compiled  for  Schirmer) 
I've  given  two  of  his  piano  pieces.  Chopinesque — yes; 
but  with  an  agreeable  variation.  I'm  doing  lots  of  music 
editing  now;  I  love  music  best  of  all,  even  the  bare  ribs 
of  pedagogy. 

The  JosefPy-Chopin  Edition  Definitive  will  be  very 
satisfying — complete  in  itself  without  my  50,000  words  of 
text. 

Don't  take — need  I  ask  you — seriously  "New  Cos- 

•  Of  "The  New  Cosmopolis."     \  The  pages  of  " Nature  and  Music,"  1914- 


i84    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

mopolis."  It  is  decidedly  a  piece  d'occasion — in  the 
Autumn  I  think  you  will  like  my  book;  lots  of  people  in 
it  you  like.  And  I've  located  Debussy  and  Moussorgsky 
(in  1879  t^e  Frenchman  lived  in  St.  Petersburg;  later  at 
Rome  studied  the  "Boris"  score — to  advantage).  How- 
ever, all  that  proves  nothing.  The  Marionette  pieces 
by  Charles  Van  Lerberghe  set  afloat  the  fire — smoulder- 
ing— of  Maurice  Maeterlinck.  Do  you  ever  see  The 
Etude  ?  Yeoman's  work — the  pot  must  boil,  women  must 
work,  as  well  as  weep,  and  men  moan  at  the  bar  (if  they 
haven't  the  price). 

As  Ever  Yours  Sincerely 

James  Huneker 

To  John  Quinn 

1 618  Beverly  Road 

My  dear  John:  ^^y  '^/'^ 

The  22nd  it  is — any  time  after  4  p.  m.  But  I'd  like 
you  and  James  to  get  down  not  later  than  5  or  5  .-30  when 
the  sun  is  still  up — the  place  is  a  dream  in  green  Just  now. 
I'll  write  Gregg  in  this  mail;  and  I'll  write  to  remind  you 
late  next  week.  A  cold  bite  and  a  drink  is  all  I  can  offer 
— but  the  Missus  will  see  to  that.  Anyhow  let  the  ses- 
sion be  a  long  one.  As  to  the  pictures:  the  instant  I 
clapped  my  eyes  on  the  notice  I  said:  J.  Q.  has  them. 
But  whether  the  picture  I  allude  to  is  the  "Dancers"  I 
can't  say.  It  is  a  large  decoration  on  the  upper  wall 
(alone)  in  the  larger  gallery.  It  is  all  silver  and  white 
line — his  famous  white  line — and  it's  like  music  and 
moonlight.  Perhaps  the  "Dancers"  is  the  virile,  rhyth- 
mic decoration  that  was  shown  at  the  previous  show, 
and  in  the  smaller  gallery.  It  is  big — but  influenced  by 
Matisse  whereas  the  one  I  mean  is  original.    A  small 


TO  HENRY  L.   MENCKEN  185 


Davies,  four  female  nudes  in  a  mystical  landscape  is 
charming  and  is  in  his  middle  period.  That's  not  the 
picture  I  mean.  But  if  you  got  the  other,  large  dancing 
figures,  I  congratulate  you  just  the  same;  a  powerful 
work.  Oh  Hell !  What's  the  use — Davies  is  our  great- 
est creative  painter.  He  is  here  to  stay — not  a  mere 
transitional  personality.  The  two  Glackens  in  the  pres- 
ent show  are  the  richest  pictures  I've  yet  seen  from  his 
luscious  brush — though  Renoir  is  never  far  away.  I'm 
glad  you  got  the  Prendergasts — a  rare  temperament. 
Kuhn — entre  nous — doesn't  interest  me  much  as  yet. 
His  near-Lawson  in  your  house  is  his  best.  No  doubt 
you  are  right  about  the  Luks  matter;  but,  of  course,  it's 
news  to  me.  George  didn't  spare  me  in  his  caricature 
and  I  don't  think  Gregg  will  care.  It's  very  funny. 
Luks  is  a  genuine  talent.  So  is  Lawson — the  best  of 
our  landscapists  qua  landscape,  without  figures.  None 
of  them  can  match  his  musical  color.  The  cubists  are  as 
dead  as  a  doornail.  It's  very  fine  geometry,  but  it's  not 
pictorial  art.  Seven  friends  of  mine  went  down  on  the 
L.  (Lusitania).    To  hell  with  war!    Good  bye  John. 

As  Ever  t 

James 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Mencken:  ^^^  ^^  ^^ 

Don't  forget  your  engagement  this  week !  i.  e.  if  you 
come  to  town  on  the  i8th  inst.  or  even  earlier.  Any  day 
at  one  p.  m.  suits  me  as  I've  just  finished  a  tough  job, 
a  Brooklyn  story  for  the  Sunday  Times.  Horrors! 
Wed.  Thurs.  Frid.  Sat.  simply  say  when  and  where 
though  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  Pilsner  ist  aus !    No  more 


i86    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

— except  at  Liichows.  At  the  Hofbrau  they  sell  at  lo 
cts  a  glass  Piel's  extra — so  genannte  Leichen  beer — Cem- 
etery brew.  At  Liichows  there  is  still  the  Genossenschaft 
beer,  pure  Pilsner,  veritable  Pilsner,  but  No.  3  in  quality. 
However,  any  brew  during  a  drought !  Don't  fail  to  let 
me  know,  and  Nathan  too.  I  want  to  tell  you  to  your 
teeth  how  I  enjoyed  that  S.  S.  study.     It  was  simply 

masterly.  e-         t 

bmcerely  as  ever,      ,  tt 

James  Huneker 

(I  hate  American  beer,  but  I  love  America.) 
P.  S.     If  weather  is  hot,  why  not  the  beach,  or  Sheeps- 
head  Bay? 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court 
T^  X*  June  20/15 

Dear  Mencken: 

Here  is  the  time-worn,  travel-stained  MS.  In  re- 
reading it  I  still  wonder  why  it  should  have  been  re- 
jected— I  mean  on  the  score  of  "dangerous"  &c.  It  is 
not  obscene,  and  certainly  not  blasphemous,  but — the 
theme  of  devil-worship  is  probably  of  so  little  interest — 
in  a  nation  of  devil-worshippers — that  the  story  is  too 
esoteric.  The  coda  is  simply  the  opening  of  act  2, 
"Parsifal"  transposed  to  Paris.  Rops,  too  is  an  "atmos- 
pheric" ingredient.  However,  judge  for  yourself.  You 
can  have  it  for  little  money.  I  think  it's  really  a  S.  S. 
story.  Enclosed  are  two  articles  for  your  private  eye 
and  I  hope  I'm  not  asking  you  too  much  to  look  them 
over.  The  dramatist  of  "The  New  Sin"  certainly  read 
that  article — The  Telegraph  is  widely  read  in  London 
theatrical  circles.  But  it's  a  quibble,  after  all.  The 
syphilis  study  cost  me  months  in  London  and,  while  I 


TO  HENRY  L.   MENCKEN  187 

enjoyed  the  work,  there  was  little  compensation.     (Will 

it  bother  you  to  return  them  sometime?)     I  do  hope  the 

next  time  you  get  over  you  will  give  me  more  time;  both 

you  and  George  Jean — and  I  hope  he  will  be  fitter,  poor 

chap!     We  can  go  out  to  the  Evergreen  Cemetery  and 

drink  Leichen  beer  at  Trommer's  Cafe — a  joyous  villa,  a 

Toteninsel  of  Durst !         * 

As  ever,         j  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

16 1 8  Beverly  Road 

Dear  Old  Scout! 

I  didn't  precisely  cry,  but  the  hoary  MS.  did  on  its 
arrival.  You  see  it  is  accustomed  to  a  quiet  home  life 
and  I  am  rather  fond  of  the  inky  thing.  Home — re- 
joicing !  (This  sounds  like  sour-grapes,  but  it's  only  the 
fermentation — lactic — left  over  from  a  trip  to  the  Phila. 
Art  Club  yesterday — and  the  day  before.  Some  wetness !) 
Now,  z/you  people  will  publish  "The  Super-Dream  Sin" 
just  as  it  stands,  without  one  erasure,  you  can  have  it 
for  the  printing  thereof,  and  2  (two)  copies  compKmen- 
tary,  to  the  author.  The  reason  is — I  want  it  for  a  book 
of  obscene  (and  not  heard)  Tales.  No  one  but  you  are 
discerning  enough  to  recognize  its  absolute  harmlessness 
— so  there  you  are  (as  Harry  James  remarks  every  other 
par.).  I  want  it  in  type  and  for  once  I  don't  agree  with 
you  that  it  must  be,  or  should  be  cut.  The  tragic  chaos 
of  the  coda  needs  just  such  a  long  foreground:  i.  e.  for 
contrast,  for  exposition  of  the  Devil  motiv,  and  also  as  an 
explanation  of  the  slut — who  later  appears  naked  and 
crucified.  It's  all  ballyrot,  of  course;  yet,  as  a  despised 
and  rejected  child — my  ugliest — I  love  it.     Hence  these 


1 88    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


tears!    What — and  this  is  serious — Fd  like  to  do  is  to 

sell  S.  S.  a  30,000  word  novelette — the  story  of  a  warm 

Prima  Donna  Wagnerienne.     I've  the  scenario.     But  we 

can  discuss  that  some  other  day.     Do  come  over  again ! 

Amsterdam  imported  at  Liichow's  next  month.     Regards 

to  George  Jean  with  wishes  for  better  health,  and  to  you. 

As  ever,  ,  tt 

James  Huneker 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 

At  the  time  this  letter  was  written,  "Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks" 
was  in  process  of  publication,  and  Mr.  Huneker's  expression  of  grati- 
tude was  partly  due  to  the  various  suggestions  which  Mr.  Brownell 
had  given  him  in  the  course  of  the  selection  of  the  papers  to  com- 
pose the  volume  and  of  the  reading  of  the  proofs.  Editorial  counsel 
had  apparently  developed  into  compliment. 

Westminster  Court:  161 8  Beverly  Road,  Brooklyn 
Dear  Mr.  Brownell:  "y^4/i5 

Fm  positively  afraid  to  thank  you  as  warmly  as  I 
should  like  to  do,  simply  because/you  may  suspect  me  of 
lip-service.  But  I  shall  not  be  afraid  of  my  thought  of 
you  and  all  you  have  been  to  me,  now,  as  well  as  the  years 
before  I  met  you.  ("Ecce  the  result"  do  I  hear  you  say ! 
Alas !  you  would  be  right  in  surveying  my  stuff  with 
ironical  eyes.)  So  take  my  words  on  their  face  value — 
thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart !  The  book  is 
disgusting — and  let  it  go  at  that.  FII  go  back  to  piano- 
teaching.  I  really  would,  only  I've  met  with  a  loss — 
the  death  of  my  dearest  friend,  a  man  of  genius  as  pi- 
anist-artist, Rafael  JosefFy;  we  were  working  on  a  new 
"Chopin"  edition,  an  edition  definitive  when  he  died  a 
few  weeks  ago.  The  world  is  gray  to  me.  Even  my 
beloved  "Chopin"  is  dead — for  the  time.     All  this  has 


TO  W.  C.  BROWNELL  189 

nothing  to  do  with  your  kind  words — except  that  they 
came  at  a  period  which  found  me  in  the  dumps.  I've 
cut  them  off  the  galley  for  my  wife  and  as  my  private 
treasure. 

I'll  send  a  book  to  Mrs.  Wharton  (the  essay  was 
printed  in  The  Forum  in  August  last).  The  "Jules  La- 
forgue"  is  in  the  current  issue  N.  A.  Review — where  it 
is  snowed-under  by  one  of  the  most  vigorous  rippings-up 
of  Bryan  I  ever  read  (Col.  Harvey  wields  the  ax).  I've 
just  read  in  proof  the  Dostoievsky-Tolstoy  article — very 
much  curtailed — for  the  August  Forum.  That  closes  the 
list.  Remains  unpublished  the  "Nordau !"  in  case  the  78 
galleys  do  not  suffice  you  could  use  the  Nordau  (about 
5000  words).  The  Dostoievsky  cut  by  Valloton  I've 
written  to  Paris  about  but  have  received  no  reply.  Prob- 
ably won't.  Remy  de  Gourmont,  the  friend  of  V.  is  in 
Paris,  but  I  think  V.  is  en  Suisse.  It  won't  matter,  will 
it !  It's  the  real  portrait  of  D.  taken  from  a  photograph, 
but  with  some  eloquent  suppressions.  Why  not  use  it 
and  explain  afterward — like  the  girl  in  the  fable!  At 
most  it  will  cost  little,  and  will  be  credited,  of  course,  to 
V.  I  like  it.  It's  comparatively  novel.  And  the  dreary 
book  needs  at  least  one  picture;  othenvise  use  a  Jules 
Laforgue — I've  several;  one  lovely  caricature  from  "Les 
Hommes  Aujourdhui"  (now  out  of  print — 20  years).  I 
hope  in  case  I  don't  see  you  before  you  go  away  that  you 
will  have  a  pleasant  vacance!  I  remain  here — which  is 
really  country.  (Besides,  I  have  my  Steinway.) 
Toujours  a  toi ! 

James  Hunuker. 

P.  S.     Here  is  the  only  important  thing  in  the  letter — 
for  me.     Dear  W.  C.  are  we  never  to  meet  and  know  the 


190    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

real  men  who  so  often  correspond?     I  assure  you  I'm  not 
in  the  least  like  my  egregious  criticisms.     Let  it  be  in 
the   autumn!     "One  grand  sweet  song"   as   Cleveland 
used  to  say;  i.  e.  he  meant  "one  wet  song  of  praise !" 

J.H. 

To  W.  C.  Brownell 

This  letter  relates  to  certain  questions  as  to  the  composition  of 
"Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks."  The  study  of  Dostoievsky  which 
stands  as  frontispiece  is  "the  Valloton"  referred  to. 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Mr.  Brownell: 

I'm  glad  about  the  Valloton.  Also  that  the  book  will 
be  no  larger.  Also  as  to  the  "unfair"  sex.  I'll  let  it 
stand  (I  should  like  to  use  Schopenhauer's  polite  phrase: 
the  "knock-kneed  sex.")  As  to  "Charles  de  Mailly" — 
it  is  one  of  Goncourt's  cleverest.  In  it  slightly  masked 
"Theo"  Gautier  appears;  also  the  title  of  George  Moore's 
"Memoirs  of  My  Dead  Life."  De  Mailly  is  a  novelist — 
Jules  de  Goncourt — and  dies  from  devotion  to  his  "ecri- 
ture  artistique"  &c.  His  wife — the  typical  wife  (in  fic- 
tion) of  artistic  fictioneers. 

I  write  now  to  ask  you  if  Mr.  Scribner  would  object, 
or  if  you  would  see  any  obstacle — or  whatever  it  might 
be  called — if  in  this  new  book  I  sign  my  full  name,  i.  e. 
James  Gibbons  Huneker?  Apart  from  the  fact  that  my 
grandfather,  James  Gibbons  was  a  well-known  poet  and 
patriot — vice-president  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood — there 
is  his  distinguished  kinsman,  Cardinal  James  Gibbons. 
Besides,  as  they  say  of  Postum:  there  is  a  reason.  I've 
signed  the  full  name  to  a  short  story  in  Harpers  Monthly 
("The  Cardinal's  Fiddle")  and  it  looked  all  right  in  proof. 


TO  HENRY  L.   MENCKEN  191 

What  do  you  say?  Or  will  it  interfere  with  the  "uni- 
formity" idea,  though  really,  it's  not  a  question  of  vast 
importance!  Let  me  know  at  your  leisure.  I've  not 
read  the  title-page  yet.  So  there's  plenty  of  time. 
Furthermore,  I'll  be  here  throughout  the  summer. 
With  regards  and  thanks  for  your  sympathetic  letter, 

^  ^"^'  As  ever, 

James  Huneker 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

161 8  Beverly  Road: 
Dear  Mencken:  uy  24/15 

The  enclosed  matter  was  Just  returned  with  thanks. 
It  seems  that  "Hedonism"  was  too  hard  a  pill  for  the 
consulting  board  of  litterateurs !  I  changed  it  to  "Higher 
Life,"  to  "The  New  Culture"  but  it  wouldn't  do.  After 
all,  Walter  Pater  was  right  when  he  begged  old  Jowett 
not  to  call  him  a  "hedonist."  It  sounded,  he  said, 
wicked,  mysterious,  Greek.  My  story  is  simply  a  parody 
on  the  culture  one  encounters  in  a  day  and  night  here. 
It  is  also  a  parody  on  the  7  Arts,  on  myself.  Only  I  put 
words  of  wisdom  in  the  mouths  of  two  old  rummy  sports, 
who  at  the  close,  agree  that  the  New  Culture  is  the  Same 
Old  Thing !  I've  given  the  thing  local  setting.  It  reads 
O.  K.  to  me — and  I  fancy  will  hit  the  average  reader.  Of 
course — we  see  in  its  refusal  the  handwriting  on  the  wall ! 
How  soon  I  can't  tell.  I  sent  at  once  another  story  to 
replace  this — a  book  review !  Now,  couldn't  you  use  this 
in  S.  S.?  It's  about  1500  words,  a  "filler"  dialogue — to 
be  signed  with  my  name,  naturally.  It's  the  sort  of  thing 
you  asked  me  for  a  month  ago.  Tell  G.  J.  N.  (George 
Jean  Nathan)  but  ask  him  to  keep  the  inside  of  the  affair 


192    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

confidential ! — as  I  must  ask  you  to  do.  I  shall  be  glad 
if  you  like  this  story  and  will  accept  your  regular  price 
for  such  stuff.    Entre  nous,  all  this ! 

As  Ever 

James  Huneker 

Postcard  to  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Flatbush — July  30/15 

Thanks  for  the  bother!  I'll  not  trouble  you  again 
with  such  piffle.  Sorry  you  didn't  see  it,  aher  du  lieber 
Gott!  I  don't  think  it  above  the  heads  of  the  public; 
rather,  not  good  enough.  And  let  her  go  at  that.  Fin- 
ish reading  page  proof  of  new  book  next  week.  Then 
fall  to  work  on  scenario  of  that  story.     Greetings ! 

J.  H. 

To  John  Quinn 

Westminster  Court, 

■p,  T  ^"S.  13/15 

Dear  John: 

I'm  not  very  well.  A  stupid  liver.  Too  much  soli- 
tary confinement.  Too  much  type!  The  day  your 
budget  of  news  came  I  was  reading  my  last  page-proof, 
328  pp.  long  is  the  book.  I  hope  you  will  like  it.  But 
I'm  sorry  you  read  the  "Dostoievsky"  in  The  Forum  for 
the  reason  that  it's  a  third  larger  in  the  book,  better 
planned,  simplified  and  with  more  viewpoints.  I'm  at 
work  on  "Artzibachev"  for  The  Times  (confidential).  I 
have  title  and  dedicatory  pages  of  the  book  here;  also 
the  cover — gold,  dark  green,  and  also  the  table  of  con- 
tents. I'll  save  them  for  you.  The  publication  is  slated 
for  Sept.  15th.  I  feel,  though  I'm  poverty-haunted,  that 
this  Sept.  I  must  go  away  to  rest,  to  swim  and  to  sneeze. 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  193 

Certain  premonitory  nasal  twitchings  and  a  horrid  ner- 
vousness tells  me  my  hay-fever  will  come  on  time  (about 
Aug.  25th)  this  year  and  with  full  force.  So  let  us  meet, 
if  possible,  some  evening  next  week.  Any  night  except 
Monday — or  Saturday  or  Sunday.  Thursday,  Friday, 
even  Wednesday  will  do.  We  haven't  foregathered  for 
months  and  "Barkis  is  willin  ."  Don't  forget  James  of 
Toledo,*  and  don't  do  the  motor-car  act,  that  is,  unless 
you  desire  the  ride,  as  Tappen's  or  Beau  Rivage  are 
within  20  minutes,  at  the  most,  of  this  house;  further- 
more, we  might  meet  at  any  place  you  say  (I  mention 
the  above  as  the  best  on  the  island,  with  Tappens  in  the 
lead  for  it  has,  or  had,  no  music).  However,  let  me  know. 
And  you  won't  think  me  exigent  because  I  give  the  list 
of  days  I  We  hope  to  get  away  Sept.  30,  possibly  to 
glorious,  dirty,  niggery  Cape  May.  Best  beach  in 
America.  Down  at  the  heels.  But  happy  !  (This  sounds 
like  ragtime.  Cape  May  is  ragtime;  niggers,  clams, 
— such  oysters  in  Sept.  and  rotten  hotels.)  Perhaps 
you  and  Jim  could  motor  down  for  a  day.     What  joy ! 

As  Ever      j^^^^  Huneker 


To  John  Quinn 

1 61 8  Beverly  Road 
Aug.  18/15 
Dear  John: 

Your  "special"  reached  here  Monday  night  and  I  ask 
forgiveness  in  delay.  But  I  was  sick,  so  was  the  Missus. 
We  are  sick.  We  went  despite  the  heat,  to  the  dentist 
on  Monday;  found  him  ill  and  we  collapsed  when  we 
returned.  Not  ptomaines  but  ordinary  mully  grubs  in- 
duced by  heat  exhaustion;  in  my  case  by  bad  nerves.     I 

*  "  El  Greggo  "  was  James  Huneker 's  name  for  Frederick  James  Gregg. 


194    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

am  all  in.  So  at  the  risk  of  being  rude  I  am  going  to 
beg  off  for  Thursday  night.  I  do  this  with  my  vitals 
longing  for  the  trip,  but  it  can't  be  undertaken.  I'm  in 
a  rotten  way.  So  is  Mrs.  Huneker.  No  break  since  our 
return  in  191 4 — January — and  now  I'm  paying  the  pen- 
alty. (Excuse  my  script,  I'm  shaky.  Indeed,  I've  such 
bad  "shakes"  in  my  interior  and  palsied  hands,  that  I 
can  hardly  hold  a  pen  or  phig  the  piano.)  I've  burnt 
the  candle  at  both  ends.  Last  Sat.  I  wrote  4000  words 
on  Artzibaschef  and  that  put  me  out  of  commission.  It's 
the  tether  for  me.  No  more  work  till  October.  So  don't 
be  annoyed  or  amazed  John  because  after  asking  you  to 
make  the  date  I  am  compelled  to  back  down.  I  think  it 
better.  I  hate  being  a  deathshead  at  a  feast  and  recall 
this  time  a  year  ago  at  the  Biltmore  and  my  eccentric — 
to  put  it  mildly — protest  against  conventionality.  Let 
us  defer  the  meeting  till  October.  My  hay-fever  is  here 
— brain  storms  and  nasty  nerves.  I'll  drop  in  at  your 
office  to  say  how  dye  do !  and  good-bye,  next  week,  for  I 
hate  the  phone  as  much  as  you  do.  Long  Beach  I  wrote 
about  in  The  Times  last  season.  Horrible !  Jerusalem 
disinfected — as  Henry  James  calls  the  East  Side  in 
his  "American  Scene."  The  whole  place  is  rowdy,  not 
in  the  Coney  Island  sense,  but  vulgar-rich  rowdy. 
You  know.  But  beautiful  as  to  beach  and  air.  Better 
go  and  see  for  yourself.  Beau-Rivage  is  the  best  spot  at 
Sheepshead;  it's  on  Emmons  Ave.  below  Tappen's. 
Now  don't  be  irritated  at  our  change  of  mind.  We  both 
need  a  change  and  thank  you  just  the  same.     Don't 

bother  answering.     Au  revoir,  .     r- 

As  Ever  . 

Jim 


TO  MME.   FRIDA  ASHFORTH  195 

A  Postcard  to  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Atlantic  City 

Sep.  13/15 

Extraordinary  experience  on  Sat.     Virgin  flight  in  a 

Glenn  Curtiss  Hydro- Aeroplane  over  the  bay  21  minutes. 

A  new  psychic  thrill.     Thanks  for  letter.     My  hay  fever 

is  horrible  here.     Leave  soon.     Griisse! 

J.  H. 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Frida  Oct  9/15 

We  were  very  glad  to  hear  from  you  yesterday,  and  last 
Spring.  I'm  an  excellent  correspondent,  yet  I've  left 
during  the  past  years  scores  of  letters  unanswered; 
furthermore,  I  didn't  get  in  to  see  you  for  which  I  apolo- 
gize. I  really  love  my  oldest  friend  in  New  York,  yet 
such  is  the  nature  of  man-selfish  absorption  in  his  own 
little  affairs.  I'm  glad  you  are  at  least  well  enough  to 
protest;  indignation  is  always  a  good  sign.  You  must 
miss  Europe.  We  do.  I  met  with  a  bad  accident  De- 
cember last  which  kept  me  indoors  suffering  and  worry- 
ing. A  broken  nose  and  a  smashed  rib — nothing  more — 
Automobile — Taxi;  broad  daylight.  Noon,  Rain,  Skidded 
and  no  damages.  I  was  too  depressed  to  go  to  law.  Be- 
sides, it  really  wasn't  the  chauffeur's  fault;  furthermore, 
I  didn't  hire  the  machine.  My  nose  is  forever  dented 
but  my  spirits  are  still  soaring.  After  the  worst  financial 
year  I  ever  went  through — war  has  killed  my  stuff  in 
the  magazines — I'm  still  alive.  I  went  to  Atlantic  City, 
hot,  noisy,  dirty,  vulgar,  but  only  to  fly.  Look  in  the 
magazine  section  of  tomorrow's  Times  (Sunday  Oct  10) 
for  my  experiences  in  a  Curtiss  90  horse  power  Hydro- 


196    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Aeroplane.     It  beats  music,  it  beats  love,  and  is  far  su- 
perior to  automobiling. 

We  will  go  in  to  see  you  some  afternoon  next  month — 
say  5  p.  M.  for  a  cup  of  tea — not  to  mention  a  sight  of  you. 
I  met  Mrs.  Gabrilowitsch  last  week  (I  am  doing  some 
work  for  Ossip)  and  she  spoke  of  you  with  genuine  affec- 
tion. I  found  her  charming.  Please  don't  think  because 
I've  pubhshed  2  books  in  6  months  that  I've  been  indus- 
trious. I  have  not  been.  Both  volumes  were  finished 
during  the  Summer  of  1914,  but  the  war  prevented  pub- 
lication then.  Books  are  luxuries  for  an  author.  They 
don't  pay  for  the  paper  and  ink.  What  I  did  work  hard 
at  all  winter  was  the  new  Chopin  Edition  of  poor  dear 
Joseffy  published  by  Schirmer.  Fifteen  volumes.  I  wrote 
the  critical  introductions.  It  was  the  last  talk  of  J.  Do 
you  remember  him  when  Albert  Ashforth  knew  him? 
1879  or  1880?  Lord  how  time  scampers.  Au  revoir. 
I've  lots  to  tell  you  of  the  war.  Freiheit  iiber  alles !  You 
could  have  spent  the  Summer  in  Switzerland  without  a 
bit  of  trouble.  The  Missus  sends  love.  As  I  do.  Of 
course  we  want  to  have  you  down  here,  stairs  or  no. 

As  Ever  Jim  Huneker 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 

Mr.  Huneker  had  known  and  admired  the  son  of  Senator  Lodge, 
George  Cabot  Lodge,  whose  death  in  1909  at  the  age  of  36  was  a 
great  shock  and  disappointment  even  to  those  who  had  never  known 
him,  because  of  the  excellence  and  beauty  of  his  published  poems 
and  the  promise  they  gave  of  great  future  achievement. 

Westminster  Court, 
My  dear  Senator  Lodge —  Brooklyn  Oct.  13.15 

I  felt  a  twinge  of  remorse  when  I  received  your  very 
kind  words  concerning  my  little  book,  because  you  are 


TO  HENRY  CABOT  LODGE  197 


a  busy  man  and  every  line  you  write  means  an  encroach- 
ment on  precious  time.  But  I  greatly  value  this  and 
your  previous  letters,  not  only  because  I  am  one  of  your 
many  unknown  admirers,  but  also  because  you  are  the 
father  of  my  dear  dead  friend,  your  son  the  poet.  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  reviving  an  old  sorrow  but 
I  had  a  genuine  personal  affection  for  the  boy.  He  was 
at  the  Sorbonne  in  1896  when  I  was  in  Paris  studying 
piano — and,  of  course — art,  literature.  One  precious 
meeting  for  our  circle  was  that  of  July  4th,  1896,  with 
the  thermometer  at  100,  and,  of  all  places,  at  Maxim's 
after  midnight.  It  was  a  stag  party,  nothing  else. 
Patriotism  of  the  heady  youthful  sort  and — champagne. 

In   the   crowd   were: ,   now   the  well-known 

architect,  son  of  the  late  Admiral  ; of 

Boston,  the  musical  conductor,  your  son, the  archi- 
tect, and  a  few  others.  Later  I  described  the  meet- 
ing (naturally  in  exaggerated  terms)  and  it  appeared  in 
a  book  of  mine,  "The  Pathos  of  Distance"  (1912)  and 
in  a  chapter  entitled  "How  Widor  Played  at  St.  Sulpice." 
The  joke,  a  juvenile  one,  was  that  the  crowd  wouldn't 
let  me  go  to  bed  so  as  to  be  up  bright  and  early  in  time 
for  the  organ  playing  of  Widor  at  St.  Sulpice,  on  the  left 
bank.  Young  Lodge  was  the  star  of  the  night.  In 
America  we  should  have  gone  to  foolish  lengths,  but  we 
were  in  Paris  and  we  were  foolish,  mad  with  fun,  but 
kept  our  heads.  Your  son  recited  brilliantly.  Ah  me! 
It  was  a  wonderful  evening.  We  heard  the  "chimes  at 
midnight"  and  I  also  suspect  I  heard  them  at  midday. 
I've  been  in  Europe — war-gashed  Europe — for  2  years- 
Brussels,  Vienna,  etc. — and  I  fancy  I  didn't  send  you 
the  book  in  question.  May  I,  without  intruding  my  lit- 
tle affairs,  do  so  now?      Sincerely,      James  Huneker 


igS    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 

Westminster  Court, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

My  dear  Mr.  Lodge —  Oct.  18/15 

I'll  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  you  send  me  here  the 
books,  which,  living  in  Europe,  I  missed.  Also  the  trans- 
lation when  you  can  lay  hands  on  it.  The  memory  of 
Sep.  28th.  Mrs.  Huneker  handed  me  a  copy  of  a  New 
York  paper — we  were  at  Atlantic  City — and  pointed  out 
that  terrible  death  notice.  I  was  about  to  sail  through 
the  air  in  a  Curtiss  hydro-aeroplane,  and  aloft  in  the 
brilliant  sunshine,  flying  over  the  inlet  I  found  myself 
repeating:  "The  Gods  were  jealous  of  your  happiness!" 
I'm  not  in  the  least  religious,  yet  indeed,  I  am  a  deter- 
minist;  nevertheless  the  double  tragedy  seems — I  only 
say  seems — like  some  horrid  revenge  from  on  high.  Of 
course  it  isn't,  but  to  you  for  whom  resignation  is  now  a 
necessity,  there  must  come  the  troubling  query:  Why! 
Pascal  is  right — we  must  all  of  us  die  alone.  Pardon  the 
pessimistic  tone.  Scribners  will  send  you  "The  Pathos 
of  Distance"   (Nietzsche's  beautiful  phrase  is  the  best 

part  of  the  barrel?).         c-         t 

^  ^  bincerely  as  ever, 

James  Huneker 


To  John  Quinn 

The  book  referred  to  in  the  following  letter  was  "  Ivory  Apes  and 
Peacocks,"  which  James  Huneker  dedicated  to  John  Quinn. 

1 61 8  Beverly  Road 
Dear  John:  Oct.  18/15 

It  was  worth  the  trouble  of  writing  a  book  to  bring 
me  such  a  beautiful  letter.     Mrs.  Huneker  was  touched, 


TO  HENRY  CABOT  LODGE  199 

as  was  I  at  the  testimony  of  your  friendship.  I  had 
made  a  more  elaborate  dedication  but  at  the  nth  hour 
I  chopped  it  out.  Simplicity  is  the  half-way  house  to 
sincerity,  and  the  plainness  of  the  dedication  is  certainly 
sincere.  I  told  Scribners  to  send  you  the  first  compli- 
mentary copy,  Sept.  2 1  St.  Didn't  you  get  it?  I  got  the 
bill  for  it,  so  please  let  me  know.  Don't  waste  good 
money  buying  so  many  copies,  though  every  22}4  cents 
royalty  buys  beer.  The  Missus  and  myself  are  on  the 
sick  list;  indeed,  I've  been  miserable  for  a  month;  belated 
hay-fever,  two  abscesses  on  my  left  hand,  and  the  arch 
of  the  same  hand  broken — I'm  visiting  a  hand  expert 
weekly  to  get  back  finger  co-ordination.  I  can't  play 
the  piano  with  my  left  hand.  Good  God,  what  an  un- 
happy old  age  I  have  before  me  if  this  proves  a  perma- 
nent injury!  I've  several  letters  from  Roosevelt  and 
G.  W.  Wickersham  in  which  you  are  referred  to  most 
agreeably.  I'll  keep  them  for  you.  "I.  A.  and  Pea- 
cocks"* is  getting  bully  out  of  town  press  mention. 
Your  name  will  fetch  luck.  I've  written  a  flying  ma- 
chine story  for  the  Sunday  Times — perhaps  in  next 
Sunday's.  With  photo  &c.  You  may  like  it.  As  soon 
as  the  month  is  over  we  must  have  a  meeting  of  The 
Big  4.     Regards  from  both  to  you  and  to  Jim  Gregg. 

As  Ever 

Jim  Huneker 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 

Westminster  Court,  Brooklyn, 

My  dear  Mr.  Lodge—  Oct.  31st  1915 

Apart  from  the  fact  that  I've  been  under  the  weather 
I  resolved  to  seem  rude  and  not  acknowledge  your  kind 

*  "Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks,"  191 5. 


200    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

gifts  of  the  books  until  I  had  read  them  all  carefully  so 
that  I  might  saturate  myself  in  the  music  and  the  men- 
tality of  George  Cabot  Lodge.  I  have  literally  spent  the 
week  with  his  spirit  and  while  I  can't  set  down  within 
the  space  of  a  letter  my  impressions  I  may  say  that  I 
rose  exalted  from  each  reading.  We,  America,  have  lost 
our  most  promising  poet;  in  these  there  is  the  promise 
and  potentiality  of  a  greater  poet  than  any  we  boast  of. 
Comparisons  are  dangerous,  but  I  stick  to  my  belief.  A 
mere  boy  writing  with  the  fulness  of  expression  such  a 
wonder  poem  as  "Mothers  of  Men"  is  alone  significant. 
I  liked,  indeed  admired,  Mr.  Adams'  study,  very  ade- 
quate, very  sympathetic,  yet  I  did  not  find  myself  cold 
or  unmoved  after  the  Prometheus  scene  had  been  reached 
in  "Herakles."  On  the  contrary,  the  atmosphere  though 
prosy  was  inspiring.  Naturally,  after  the  terrific  drama 
preceding,  when  the  lofty  regions  were  reached,  humanity 
seems  smaller,  its  aims  paltrier.  Here  we  graze  the  sub- 
lime. It  is  a  theme  for  a  great  music-drama  or  sym- 
phonic poem.  I  thought  of  the  eagle  scene  in  "Thus 
Spake  Zarathustra."  It  is  only  with  the  measuring  rod 
of  the  mightiest  that  you  can  gauge  George  Lodge. 
Some  of  his  lyrics  are  perfect.  I  find  him  in  D.  G.  Ros- 
setti  moods  in  several  of  his  sonnets  and  he  had  his 
Swinburne  and  Browning  imitation  measles,  like  all 
moulting  poets.  But  the  main  thing  is  that  he  was  an 
authentic  poet;  there  is  intellectual  power  behind  his 
musical  throne  and  if  at  the  last  the  mind  sometimes 
takes  precedence  over  the  music  it  is  rather  a  symptom 
of  undue  fatigue  and  stress.  He  lived  too  radiantly.  I 
saw  that  in  1 896.  He  was  compact  of  flame  and  imagi- 
nation. I  read  with  gratitude  Theodore  Roosevelt's  trib- 
ute (on  election  day  I  am  specially  commanded  to  lunch- 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  201 

eon  at  Oyster  Bay  when  I  hope  to  tell  the  Colonel  of  my 
pleasure  in  his  words). 

I  enjoyed  the  Italian  critical  study  but  do  not  agree 
with  the  writer  that  your  son  had  a  father  who  contrib- 
uted Httle  to  his  literary  growth  (of  his  mother  we  may 
easily  note  the  wonderful  influence  she  was  in  his  life). 
But  after  reading  the  "Two  Addresses"  I  see  that  the 
gift  came  naturally.  I  consider  the  one  devoted  to  young 
Widener  a  tiny  classic  in  its  happy  balance  of  the  spoken 
and  written  word;  and  in  the  sentiment  also.  I  know 
P.  A.  B.  Widener,  who  personally  showed  me  his  por- 
celains and  paintings  at  Elkins  Park  and  I've  often  written 
(in  The  Sun)  about  the  great  collection.  Not  to  bother 
you  further,  my  dear  Sir,  let  me  thank  you  heartily  for 
the  privilege  of  looking  into  a  true  poetic  soul.  The  pity 
of  it  all !  The  Gods  are  Jealous  and  George  Lodge  was 
what  Balzac  the  Seer  called  one  of  "the  predestined"; 
one  foredoomed  to  an  early  death  and  a  late  immortality. 
(You  remember  Savage  Landor  and  his  remark  that  he 

would  "dine  late"!)  c-  t 

^  bmcerely  as  ever 

James  Huneker 

To  John  Quinn 

The  following  letter  refers  to  the  visit  of  James  Huneker  to  Colonel 
Roosevelt  at  Oyster  Bay,  which  is  described  in  "Steeplejack," 
Volume  II,  pages  141-3. 

16 1 8  Beverly  Road 

Dear  John: 

I  got  home  before  7.  No  alibi  necessary.  I  wanted 
to  thaw  out,  for  I  was  frozen  and  I  did  so  with  a  couple 
of  steins.  The  day  from  start  to  finish  was  wholly  de- 
lightful  and   my   preliminary   raven-like   croaking   was 


202    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

quite  unnecessary.  I  can  thank  you  for  the  day.  The 
Roosevelt  family  seems  ideal — the  good,  old,  solid  Ameri- 
can ideal.  The  Colonel  is  a  human  dynamo.  His  force 
and  versatility  are  as  extraordinary  at  close  hand  as  in 
public.  Altogether  I  had  a  "bully  time."  "Ivory 
Apes  and  Peacocks"  will  be  published  this  month  in 
London.  Same  publisher — Werner  Laurie — No.  8  Essex 
St.,  Strand.  In  the  meantime  "New  Cosmopolis"  is 
getting  columns  of  notices.  Morning  Post  gave  it  a 
column — sound  criticism;  also  The  Chronicle,  seemingly 
to  make  up  for  the  allusion — earlier — to  "swash  buckler 
Yankee  critic,"  has  "done  me  proud."  The  new  book 
will  get  its  dose,  later.  Had  a  card  this  morning  from 
Zangwill.  He  rebels  at  the  Walt  Whitman  story.  The 
English  will  see  him  as  a  glorified  American,  if  not  a  great 
poet  at  least  a  seer.  Why  not  Emerson,  if  they  are  look- 
ing for  seers?  W.  W.  copied  Emerson's  transcendental- 
ism and  botched  the  matter.  No — we  are  all  Bowery 
boys,  goats  and  pawnbrokers,  instead  of  middle  class 
sheep,  as  mild  as  stepmother's  milk  and  cowards,  moral, 
at  least,  into  the  bargain.  Perhaps  Nordau's  descrip- 
tion— at  the  end  of  that  Forum  article — isn't  so  bad. 
By  the  way,  John,  it's  funny  isn't  it,  that  you  should  have 
spoken  of  Isaac  Rice  last  Tuesday  and  the  poor  man 
lying  dead  at  the  time.  *     ^ 

Jim. 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Mencken,  Onkel  !  Nov.  24/15 

Don't  imagine  I'm  merely  careless  about  answering 
your  last  very  kind  letter  concerning  my  cold  &c.  No 
news  is  good  news  and  the  musical  and  theatrical  season 


/ 


TO  HENRY  L.  MENCKEN  203 

opened  with  a  bang — since  then  I've  done  nothing  but 
run  from  opera  to  concerts,  to  theatres,  yes,  even  to  a 
film-show!  So  here  I  am  writing  for  3  concerns,  same 
stuff  till  I  sicken.  I'm  thinking  all  the  time  of  the  novel- 
ette; but  just  now  it's  impossible.  When  the  inevitable 
repetitions  begin  at  the  opera  I'll  be  freer.  I  go  to  Phila. 
Sat.  night — a  dinner.     I  wish  it  were  Baltimore. 

What  I  wrote  George  Jean  is  quite  true.  IVe  the  title, 
I've  written  the  ist  par.  and  the  last  sentence,  the  re- 
maining 30,000  words  is  only  a  question  of  sitzfleisch. 
With  me  a  title  is  usually  all  I  need.  However,  I've  the 
idea  in  my  skull,  so  be  patient,  if  you  will. 

I  read  Nathan's  last  book  (dedicated  to  H.  L.  M.)  and 
enjoy  him  better  between  covers  than  in  Puck.  A  writer 
more  malicious,  more  brilliant  and  better  informed  unless 
on  our  beautiful  drama  would  be  hard  to  find.  Paris  is 
where  that  young  man  ought  to  be.  There  he  would  be 
appreciated.  Here  he  only  bruises  his  brain  against  the 
eternal  box-office. 

Hope  to  see  you  H.  L.  when  you  come  over  again. 
(Will  have  a  Leschetizky  story  in  next  Sunday's  Times 
magazine  section.    A  sweet  theme !     I  don't  think.) 

As  ever  cordially, 

James  Huneker 


1916 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 

Westminster  Court, 
My  dear  Royal:  January  7,  1916. 

The  quotation  about  Cezanne  piqued  my  curiosity.  I 
found  that  I  had  written  it  in  1904  in  an  account  of  the 
Automne  salon  in  Paris.  In  1906  I  wrote  Paul's  obituary. 
I  met  the  old  chap  first  in  1901  at  Aix.  We  went  via 
tramway  from  Marseilles.  Hot,  dusty,  dirty  Aix  I  Ce- 
zanne, like  John  La  Farge,  hated  handshakes.  He  loathed 
his  origin.  His  father  first  a  barber,  then  a  valet,  finally 
a  banker.  In  1904  at  the  "Hommage  a  Cezanne"  exhibi- 
tion {Salon  (T Automne)  a  huge  Salle  was  given  over  to 
him.  Again  I  spoke  to  him,  but  as  I  failed  to  address 
him  as  "Cher  Maitre!"  he  didn't  answer.  Of  course, 
he  had  quite  forgotten  that  I  had  visited  him  at  Aix  for 
a  newspaper  story.  //  I  had  said  that  Cezanne  was  the 
antithesis  of  Corot — as  you  suggest — I  would  have  put 
too  high  a  price  on  his  worth;  Bouguereau  is  the  more  ap- 
posite comparison;  though  your  point  is  well  taken. 
Since  those  days  I've  seen  the  best  Cezanne — the  local 
I've  read  and  "roasted"  CHve  Bell  and  W.  H.  Wright; 
and  since  then,  while  I  haven't  revised  my  opinion  of 
the  strength  and  sincerity  of  C.  yet  I've  deemed  it  neces- 
sary for  my  own  critical  health  to  see  him  in  perspective. 
I  did  so  in  Scribner's  now  incorporated  in  "Ivory  Apes 
&  Peacocks";  and  I  do  so  from  time  to  time  in  Puck. 
C.  would  be  the  first  to  revolt  against  the  idiotic  idolatry 
which  makes  him  chej  d'ecole  ;  during  his  fife  he  attacked 
both  Gauguin  and  Van  Gogh  (I  admire  this  latter  Dutch 

Johnnie)  for  misreading  his  meanings.     What  the  Cubists 

204 


TO  EDWARD  C.  MARSH  205 

and  Futurists  will  do  in  the  future  who  shall  dare  say! 
I  prefer  the  Itahan  group;  at  least,  they  do  not  attempt 
the  species  of  glorified  geometry  of  the  Cubisten.  I  paid 
my  respects  to  the  hideous  German  art — modern,  of 
course — in  my  new  book,  leaning  heavily  on  a  quota- 
tion from  R.  C. 

All  this  to  prove  Tm  not  a  Cezanne-ist,  even  if  I  like — 
above  all — his  still-hfe.  His  landscapes  are  all  alike — 
he  is  the  Single  Speech  Hamilton  of  landscapists.  But  it 
doesn't  matter  what  I  think,  anyway;  I'm  Just  unbur- 
dening myself  and  for  my  prolixity  a  friend's  pardon. 
How  are  you,  Royal?  As  Ever  Cordially 

James  Huneker 

P.  S. — He  was  little  more  than  third-rate,  after  all,  this 
grumpy  old  bird,  wasn't  he?  A  new  title:  "The  Barber's 
Son  from  Aix :  or  Why  He  Used  a  Shaving  Brush  for  Dis- 
figured Subjects." 

To  Edward  C,  Marsh 

Westminster  Court 
Dear  Marsh:  Mar._2o/i6 

Thanks  for  the  study  of  Dostoievsky — one  of  the  best 
I've  read.  The  "Abyss"  is  sentimental  trash  and  not 
real.  I'll  write  later  about  both  books.  At  present  I'm 
convalescing  from  my  first  illness  in  45  years;  pleurisy 
and  pneumonia.  Feb.  29th  they  gave  me  up  but  I  dodged 
death  for  a  httle  while.  I'm  shaky  but  find  pleasure  in 
scrawling  to  an  old  friend.  Greetings ! 

James  Huneker 

P.  S.  Contrary  to  my  expectations  "Ivory  Apes  &c." 
has  gone  big — even  in  London,  in  times  of  war.     I  had 


2o6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

fancied  that  "New  Cosmopolis"  a  "low-brow"  book 
would  have  sold  better,  but  no,  the  "Ivory"  went  bully. 
Here  I  am  talking  "shop,"  ruling  passion  &c.  I 

To  John  Quinn 

Westminster  Court, 

Dear  John:  March  26,  1916. 

You  were  very  kind  to  send  me  Conrad's  works.  I'm 
re-reading  and  again  I  marvel  at  his  sheer  writing  gift, 
not  to  mention  his  psychology.  Curiously  enough,  I 
had  Just  finished  "Under  Western  Eyes"  yesterday.  I 
sent  him  "Ivory"  (soap?)  last  September  and  of  course 
he  couldn't  and  wouldn't  acknowledge  it  because  be 
figures  in  it,  so  the  super-subtle  Pole  let  me  know  through 
you.  That  is  what  I  call  tact;  indeed,  his  every  page  is 
tactful.  I'll  write  him  later.  I  appreciate  your  troubles. 
You  are  too  "easy"  but  that  is  your  own  affair.  (Every 
$5  bill  lent  makes  a  fresh  enemy!  Don't  forget  that.) 
What  I  may  dare  to  say,  rather  advise,  is  this; 

Don't  buy  any  more  pictures.  Don't  buy  crude  Ameri- 
can art  or  Cubist  junk.  This  new  crowd  is  already  an- 
cient. Buy  a  few  great  pictures  and  sculptures — like  the 
Puvis,  or  the  A.  Johns  or  the  A.  Davies;  don't  tolerate 
rot  because  it  is  signed  "191 6."  Remember  John,  all 
these  petty  revolutions,  interesting,  even  significant  at 
times,  will  never  even  deflect  for  a  moment  the  broad  cur- 
rent of  eternal  art.  It's  so  in  music  and  literature;  it's 
so  in  art.  There  is  a  norm,  and  these  young  chaps  may 
fume  and  sputter,  but  back  to  it  they  must  revert  else 
rot  and  drop  from  the  parent  trunk.  As  to  the  egotist 
painter,  yes,  a  terror,  but  with  more  talent  and  tempera- 
ment in  his  little  fingers  than  the  whole  crowd  here — 
Davies  and  Lawson  excepted.  (Lawson  is  now  our 
greatest    colorist    in    landscape.     A    jewelled    palette.) 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  207 

George  [Luks]  is  not  Dusseldorf,  but  Holland;  above  all 
a  master  in  characterization,  even  if  he  does  limp  tech- 
nically at  times.  He  is  vital — color,  line,  character. 
The  rest  doesn't  much  matter. 

Miss  Gary  in  The  Times,  Saturday  March  25th  (edi- 
torial page),  tells  the  truth  about  the  Macbeth,  Shaw, 
Pascin,  Davies,  etc.  She  is  the  most  gentle  of  critics, 
too  polite,  but  she  rebels  at  certain  crude  stuff.     I  agree 

with  her.     I'm  more  loyal  than ,  the  man  I  referred 

to,  who  is  absolutely  destitute  of  the  critical  spirit  in 
art  (not  to  dwell  upon  his  lack  of  sohd  experience  and 
lack  of  historical  continuity) ;  and  then  I  am,  as  you  can 
vouch,  absolutely  disinterested.  I've  no  axe  to  grind. 
I'm  neither  for  Luks  nor  for  Davies.  I  admire  both. 
I  admire  Lawson  more  and  more.  You  are  a  marvel  of 
catholicity.  I  admire  your  easy  tolerance  of  all  sorts  of 
talents.  But  opinions  are  not  hard  cash  and  you  have 
bought  too  generously.  Now,  John,  pardon  my  sermon. 
Rather  take  it  in  the  spirit  it  is  offered.  After  all,  it  is 
better  to  be  prodigal  and  abundant  and  fluid  than  hard, 
constipated  and  narrow.  On  this  note  I  end.  I  would- 
n't hurt  anyone's  feelings  for  anything. 

I  hope  the  country  house  won't  eat  you  up.  Perhaps 
we  may  all  sit  some  afternoon  on  your  friendly  piazza 
and  cheer  the  setting  sun.  Did  you  see  "The  Great 
Lover"?  Play  colorless,  but  a  finished  portrait  is  pre- 
sented by  Leo  Ditrichstein.  The  Phoenix  story  is  from 
"Pathos  of  Distance,"  and  printed  without  "by  your 
leave."  But  what  can  one  say  to  Michael  Monahan  and 
his  blooming  celticisms? 

I'm  still  indoors  cursing  the  snow,  and  consulting  the 
calendar. 

With  reagrds  from  both,  ^^  ^^^^ 

'     Jim. 


2o8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  John  Quinn 


Westminster  Court 
April  7/16 


My  dear  John: 

You  took  my  letter  precisely  as  I  hoped  you  would. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  rather  gratuitous  lecturing.  What 
I  meant  was — buy  the  significant  pictures,  don't  stock 
up  with  too  many  examples  of  one  man.  But  you  will, 
I  think,  reap  a  big  reward  when  you  sell  your  Johns.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  you  have  a  wonderfully  varied  assem- 
blage. Some  day  I  hope  you  will  let  me  write  a  story 
about  the  "John  Quinn  Pictures."  And  soon.  Fve  been 
already  asked  by  a  certain  daily.  Brandes  writes  me. 
So  does  Maeterlinck.  The  Enghsh  papers  are  giving 
good  notices  to  "Ivory  &c"  especially  The  Spectator. 
I'll  send  a  few  to  you.  Kuhn's  man  I've  not  seen  for  a 
year.  He  has  talent.  But  not  in  Davies  class.  The 
Brancusi  and  Epstein  sculptures  are  a  joy.  I  love  them. 
The  "Birds"  was  shown  in  191 3  at  the  gallery  opposite 
the  Little  Theatre,  London.  James  Gregg  is  incorrupti- 
bly  honest,  and  it  is  as  a  literary  critic  he  is  at  his  best. 
(I  am  told  20  times  a  month  to  stick  to  my  last — music 
criticism,  and  begad  I  think  people  are  right).  I  owe 
Jimmy  EI  Greggo  the  first  real  lift  for  my  books.  But 
he  pains  me  by  his  present  indifference  to  his  early  loves 
— Lawson  and  Luks.  You  must  grow,  but  a  good  pic- 
ture is  as  good  in  1920  as  the  day  it  was  painted,  say 
1900.  I  don't  believe  in  schools  or  movements.  There 
are  only  painters  with  talent.  All  the  rest  is  ornament 
or  superfluous. 

I'm  going  out  next  week.  Life  is  a  sullen  Saragossian 
sea  at  present.     I'm  not  working  yet — next  week  (?) 

We  must  meet  in  May.     What  do  you  think  of  Col. 


TO  HENRY  L.  MENCKEN  209 

Teddy?     A  marvel.     The  war — I  no  longer  read  any- 
thing but  headlines.     (1914  Attrition;   1915  Nutrition; 
191 6  Contrition) 
With  regards  from  both 

As  Ever 

James  Huneker 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court, 
April  II,  1916. 

My  dear  Mencken: 

I  fear  this  letter  will  give  you  as  much  boredom  as 
yours  gave  me  pleasure;  really,  I'm  becoming  alarmed 
at  the  sight  of  my  name  with  your  signature — I'll  never 
live  up  to  all  the  things  you  say  of  me !  And  I  needn't 
add,  that  you  know  how  grateful  I  am  for  your  lonely, 
but  golden  voice  in  the  wilderness.  Also — I'm  damned 
glad  that  you  are  about  to  print  a  volume.  You  should 
have  done  it  years  ago.  I  only  hope  I'll  have  a  page  on 
some  journal  to  review  your  book!  A  few  corrections 
and  suggestions  before  I  answer  your  questions:  (don't 
get  scared!  I've  a  morning  to  myself — one  of  many 
since  my  illness — and  I  propose  to  tell  you  all  you  ask 
and  more.  Nothing  is  more  desiccating  than  the  gossip- 
ing egotism  of  writers),  ist.  De  Pachmann  pointed  at 
the  audience  and  said,  "He  knows  more  than  you'' — 
meaning,  of  course,  the  critics  as  well  as  the  London  pub- 
lic. Catch  the  little  chap  admitting  that  any  one  knew 
more  than  he  did  of  Chopin.  Few  do  (notably,  Godow- 
sky  the  Superman  of  the  keyboard).  2nd.  I  do  hope 
you  will  not  endorse  the  legend  of  Pollard's,  i.  e.  that  I 
never  wrote  of  Americans,  only  of  foreigners,  whereas,  all 
my  life  I've  toiled  in  the  cause  of  American  poets,  paint- 


210    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

ers,  musicians,  prosateurs,  critics — witness,  E.  A.  Mac- 
Dowell  and  all  contemporary  American  composition  for 
which  I  battled  in  The  Musical  Courier  as  far  back  as 
1886.  And  for  18  years,  all  over  the  land  I  attended  the 
annual  meetings  of  the  Music  Teachers  Association  where 
new  music  (American)  was  given. 

In  art  ask  the  1903-1912  crowd — Davies,  Lawson, 
Luks,  Sloan,  Prendergast  &c.  what  I  did  on  The  Sun 
(even  Manet  and  Monet  and  Degas  were  laughed  at  here 
in  1900).  The  Cubists  don't  interest  me.  I  have  to  get 
off  somewhere  and  with  the  exception  of  Matisse  and 
Picasso  and  Epstein  and  Augustus  John,  I  don't  dote  on 
the  new  chaps.  I've  letters  from  Frank  Norris;  Dreiser 
(whose  Gerhardt  novel — I've  forgotten  the  title,  I  read 
in  Ms.  and  sweated  blood  in  the  corrections — to  no  pur- 
pose. He  is  without  an  ear  for  prose,  or  an  eye  for  form), 
Steve  Crane  and  the  new  writers — first  of  all  and  best, 
H.  B.  Fuller,  whose  "With  the  Procession"  and  "Chff 
Dwellers"  were  models  of  realism  in  their  day — which 
prove  my  sympathy  for  American  art  and  letters.  No, 
my  dear  H.  L.,  Pollard  had  that  crazy  notion  on  the  brain 
and  did  me  an  injustice.  What  I  didn't  do  was  to  print 
a  volume  on  American  arts,  &c.  I'll  do  it  some  day  and 
date  it  and  you  may  be  surprised. 

No,  I've  not  a  drop  of  German  blood  in  me.  If  I 
had  I  might  possess  more  of  what  I  once  called  The 
Will-to-Sit-Still.  (Sitzfleisch.)  I'm  too  Celtic,  too  cen- 
trifugal, as  opposed  to  the  centripetal  Teuton,  too  fickle 
if  too  Catholic,  and  I'm  a  poor  man  at  ^6.  My  philan- 
dering in  the  7  arts  has  kept  me  roving  from  literature 
to  art  and  that  is  not  very  German.  Even  the  German 
beer  and  cuisine  are  not  in  it  with  the  Austro-Hungarian. 
I'm  Celto-Magyar — Pilsner  and  Donnybrook  Fair. 


TO  HENRY   L.   MENCKEN  211 

Now  as  to  your  questions:  First  effort — a  short  story 
written  July  4,  1876  (thermometer  at  105*)  in  Phila. 
Bad  imitation  of  E.  A.  Poe — my  first  idol — and  in  print. 
It  is  called  "The  Comet"  (ominous  title  I).  Then  I  went 
to  Paris  1878 — to  see  Liszt — and  wrote  for  the  Philadel- 
phia Evening  Bulletin  specials  on  the  music,  painting, 
sculpture,  literature,  stage,  &c.;  wrote  very  much  in  my 
present  gossipy  manner — IVe  no  literary  style,  except  a 
possible  personal  note — and  I've  all  this  stuff  in  print  to 
show.  I  came  to  New  York  in  1886.  I  first  read  Ibsen 
in  1878.  I  became  acquainted  with  Nietzsche  in  1888 — 
his  "Richard  Wagner  at  Bayreuth."  I  imitated  Carlyle 
— the  Carlyle  of  "Sartor"  till  my  mother — who  wrote 
pure,  undefiled  English — gave  me  Cardinal  Newman; 
with  Flaubert  he  has  been  my  model.  God  knows  you 
would  never  suspect  it.  The  first  Ibsen  critic  in  America 
was  William  Morton  Payne  editor  of  The  Dial,  Chicago; 
with  Prof.  H.  H.  Boyesen  of  Columbia  he  discoursed  on 
the  plays  (and  completed  the  Jaeger  Life)  But  as  far 
back  as  1891  I  was  in  the  critical  trenches  as  dramatic 
critic  and  fighting  the  poison  bombs  of  the  old  time  criti- 
cism. Then  Ibsen  was  a  "degenerate";  today,  he  is  a 
tiresome  preacher. 

I  had  only  a  brief  Maeterlinck  fever,  Vm  over  it  15 
years.  Shaw  is  shallow,  but  amusing.  I  read  him  in 
1886 — a  rotten  music  and  art  critic.  But  I  quoted  him 
in  the  Musical  Courier  and  persuaded  its  owner,  the  late 
Marc  A.  Blumenberg,  to  buy  an  essay  of  Shaw's  on  old 
musical  instruments,  clavichord,  &c.  and  their  superiority 
to  the  modern  grand  pianoforte  (like  all  innovators  and 
revolutionists,  Shaw  faces  the  past,  socialism,  idealism, 
&c.).  This  article — I  believe  to  be  the  first  that  ever 
appeared  in  America — is  buried  in  the  pages  of  The  Musi- 


212    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

cal  Courier  for  May  1890  or  1891.  From  the  Phila. 
Bulletin,  when  I  returned,  I  went  to  The  Courier  (for  15 
years).  Joined  The  Recorder  in  1891 ;  then  The  Morning 
Advertiser;  finally  The  Sun  in  1900.  Since  then — 191 2 — 
I've  written  for  The  Times,  still  do  (was  music,  dramatic 
and  art  critic  on  Sun.  Also  editorial  writer,  book  re- 
viewer, and  foreign  correspondent). 

I  studied  piano  at  Paris  with  a  Chopin  pupil,  the  ven- 
erable George  Mathias;  in  New  York  with  Joseffy.  Was 
his — (Don't  blench  Bill !  This  is  the  last) — assistant  as 
piano  pedagogue  at  the  National  Conservatory,  N.  Y., 
for  10  years.  Have  never  pubhshed  any  music,  though 
my  grandfather,  John  Huneker,  was  a  rotten  composer 
of  church  music  and  a  capable  organist  of  St.  Mary's 
Church,  Phila.;  my  other  grandfather  was  an  Irish  poet, 
patriot,  refugee,  printer,  James  Gibbons,  president  of 
the  Fenian  Brotherhood  in  America.  (The  limit — poet 
and  organist!  No  w^onder  I  drink  Pilsner.)  My  "best 
seller"  thus  far  (mirage  No.  93!)  is  "Iconoclasts"  (pub- 
lished 1903)  then  the  "Chopin"  and  now  "Ivory  Apes" 
&c.  which  has  gone  here  and  in  England.  (See  Spectator 
Dec.  18-15.)  My  "Chopin"  is  in  German  (Georg  Miiller, 
Munchen  &  Leipzig).  My  "Iconoclasts"  is  in  print  but 
not  published  in  Germany  and  Austria  ("Bilderstiirmer" 
— idiotic  title).  The  "Chopin"  is  also  in  French  and 
Italian,  and,  oddly  enough  there  is  an  edition  (pirated) 
of  "Visionaries"  in  Bohemian!  (Prague).  I  have  it. 
(The  translator,  poor  devil,  came  over  here  in  money 
distress  and  it  was  summer  and  I  was  in  Europe.  He 
got  a  job  at  the  German  Hospital  as  a  lift  boy.  It  fell. 
He  was  killed.  No  royalties  for  me,  no  money  for  him). 
And  now  the  secret  of  my  soul. 

In  France  and  Germany  my  two  volumes  of  tales, 


TO  HENRY   L.   MENCKEN  213 

"Melomaniacs'*  and  "Visionaries"  are  the  best  liked  of 
my  books  (they  have  both  been  translated  by  Lola  Lorme 
of  Vienna  but  the  war  has  kept  them  off  the  market).  I 
think  they  are,  in  spots,  worth  all  my  alleged  critical 
stuff.  That  is,  they  belong,  for  the  most  part,  to  what 
the  Germans  call  "Kulturnovellen,"  and  are  not  Anglo- 
Saxon  or  American  fiction  at  all.  I  have  "The  Lord's 
Prayer  in  B"  in  German  and  French.  Also  in  German — 
"The  Purse  of  Aholibah,"  "A  Chopin  of  the  Gutter"  &c 
(in  weekly  and  monthly  publications).  My  favorites  are 
(in  "Visionaries")  "The  Third  Kingdom,"  "Rebels  of 
the  Moon,"  and  in  "Melomaniacs"  "Avatar."  Both 
books  have  been  called  valuable  documents  for  alienists 
&c.,  and  both  books  do  not  sell.  They  are  too  heavy. 
Did  you  read  "Visionaries"?  May  I  send,  if  not,  both 
these  fictions?  (Ah!  the  parental  passion  for  the  ugly 
ducklings  of  the  inky  family.)  In  conclusion  (quick !  a 
drink  at  my  expense)  I  loathe  movements — artistic,  po- 
litical, literary,  religious — all  propaganda  &c.  There  are 
no  "schools"  in  art  or  literature,  only  good  writers  and 
artists;  there  are  no  types,  only  individuals.  And  the 
best  beer  comes  from  Bohemia  as  the  best  music  comes 
from  Germany;  the  best  prose  from  Paris,  the  best  poets 
from  England — you  can't  get  away  from  it,  old  son. 
But  the  best  fried  oysters  and  terrapin  and  literary  critic 
— from  Baltimore !  By  God !  And  may  He  have  mercy 
on  your  soul  if  you  read  this  through  at  a  sitting.  Again 
— thanks.     We  must  meet,  with  G.  J.  N.  here  in  May, 

late  in  May.  . 

AS  ever,    j^^^^  Huneker 


214    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Lawrence  Gilman 

This  is  in  answer  to  a  note  from  Mr.  Gilman  asking  Mr.  Huneker 
■why  he  had  not  sent  an  article  he  had  promised  for  The  North  Amer- 
ican Review.  Evidently  the  "little  anecdote"  was  the  explanation. 
Mr.  Gilman  had  enclosed  his  review  of  a  first  novel  by  Willard 
Huntington  Wright. 

The  Shakespeare  prelude  was  an  article  in  The  North  American 
Review  apropos  of  Beerbohm  Tree's  production  of  Henry  VHI. 

W^tminster  Court:  1618  Beverly  Road 
•«<  ^  Brooklyn  May  13/16 

My  dear  Gilman: 

I  am  glad  you  wrote.  I  sent  the  little  anecdote  to  let 
you  know  of  my  illness;  well  nigh  fatal,  by  the  way.  On 
Feb.  29th  I  came  near  crossing  the  border  for  I  had  a  bad 
case  of  pneumonia  and  pleurisy.  My  first  illness  I 
Quite  an  experience.  I  always  read  the  N.  A.  R.  [North 
American  Review]  for  your  story.*  Politics  do  not  inter- 
est me  and  as  for  war — !  Phew !  Yes,  your  criticism 
of  a  certain  new  American  novel  w^as  (is,  I  should  say) 
sound;  nevertheless,  there  is  another  angle  from  which 
the  book  may  be  viewed.  It  has  for  a  virgin  novel  a  cer- 
tain grim  power,  but  is  charmless — Just  the  reverse  of  the 
author  who,  even  though  dogmatic,  doesn't  suggest  power 
— rather  charm  and  a  debonair  "nerve"  that  appealed 
to  me  when  last  I  saw  him  in  191 3.  Above  all,  he  has 
evaded  the  usual  sentimental  traps  of  the  "best  seller.** 
And  then,  my  dear  Gilman,  the  "new  woman*'  is  about 
"due"  in  fiction  for  the  inevitable  reaction.  She  has  too 
long  been  over  flattered.  The  new  "young  men," 
Nietzcheans,  call  them  what  you  will,  are  bound  to  send 
the  pendulum  the  other  direction.     As  I  wrote,  the  book 

*  "Story"  is  here  used  in  the  newspaper  sense  of  anything  written — from  a 
8*»ck-mark«t  report  to  a  review  of  a  new  opera. 


TO  RUPERT  HUGHES  215 

lacks  air;  I  suffocated  before  I  was  through.  The  style 
is  metallic.  But  the  total  effect  is  more  impressive  than 
most  American  novels  written  lately.  I  enjoyed  your 
analysis  of  the  Mahler  symphony — which  I  heard  in 
Munich,  ist  performance.  I,  personally,  like  No.  2 
symphony  better.  Your  Shakespeare  prelude  is  charm- 
ing— apart  altogether  from  the  criticism  of  the  lisping, 
ambling  English  actor.     ^    j.  t, 

^^  ^    ^      James  Huneker 


To  Rupert  Hughes 

Mr.  Hughes  had  written  Mr.  Huneker  to  remonstrate  lightly  on 
account  of  the  scantiness  of  _the  comment  in  Puck,  for  which  Mr. 
Huneker  was  then  writing,  on  his  novel  "Clipped  Wings,"  and  had 
incidentally  twitted  him  with  "dragging"  Flaubert  into  much  of  his 
literary  comment — apropos  of  his  having  done  so  in  certain  refer- 
ences to  the  novels  of  Stephen  French  Whitman,  author  of  "Pre- 
destined," etc.  The  reference  to  "Romeike,"  the  cHpping  agency, 
arose  from  the  irrepressible  temptation  of  a  publisher's  advertising 
department  to  transform  everything  to  grist  that  came  to  its  mill: 
Mr.  Hughes  had  shown  his  publishers  a  personal  letter  from  Mr. 
Huneker  praising  his  "Clipped  Wings";  the  advertising  department 
sent  quotations  from  it  to  the  newspapers  as  a  "literary  note." 

Westminster  Court:  Brooklyn,  June  10/16 
You  dear  old  sensitive  soul,  Rupert!  If  I  had  even 
a  faint  notion  you  valued  my  poor  pen  I  should  have  not 
said  a  word  about  "Clipped  Wings" — for  that  mention 
was  really  an  acknowledgment  of  the  publisher's  courtesy, 
not  a  review.  But  Vm  very  sorry  you  are  annoyed,  Just 
as  is  your  grievance.  At  the  risk  of  being  told  that 
"Qui  s'excuse"  &c.  let  me  tell  you  a  few  things.  First, 
I'm  only  just  up  on  my  legs,  shaky  to  be  sure,  after  a  3 
months  bout  with  pneumonia,  which  simply  smashed  all 


2i6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

my  plans.  I  know  you  knew  nothing  of  my  illness  else 
I  would  have  had  a  line  from  you;  and  I'm  sure  you  ought 
to  have  suspected  something  was  wrong  with  me  as  I 
didn't  write  you  at  the  time  of  the  death  of  your  dear 
sister — a  lady  for  whom  I  entertained,  as  did  Mrs.  Hun- 
eker,  a  profound  admiration.  (We  met  her  at  Worcester 
in  1902.)  "Clipped  Wings"  I  read  during  my  conva- 
lescence. I  like  it,  but  the  disposition  now  on  my  paper 
is  to  avoid  all  book  reviews.  And  as  I'm  allowed  only 
1500  words  a  week  I  had  to  crowd  in  a  lot  of  books  with 
the  usual  unsatisfactory  results.  Indeed,  Rupert,  I 
didn't  think  I  would  ever  write  a  hne  again  for  Puck. 
They  want  one  essay  from  me,  and  your  book  would,  and 
will,  furnish  a  stirring  thesis.  Why,  the  Verse  of  Vance 
has  been  on  my  table  a  year,  over  a  year  I  So  please 
pardon  me  for  something  for  which  I'm  not  to  blame.  As 
regards  "Empty  Pockets"  I  wrote  a  paragraph  about  it — 
always  crowded  as  to  space — and  you  must  have  missed  it. 
Neither  of  the  new  books  is  the  equal  of  "What  Will 
People  &c."  But  that  of  course  is  a  personal  opinion. 
The  letter  about  "Empty  Pockets"  was  marked  "in 
confidence" — if  you  still  have  it  look  it  up — and  I  con- 
fess I  was  rather  shocked  to  see  it  in  print  without  being 
asked.  Naturally  I  never  write  anything  I'd  be  ashamed 
to  see  in  print,  but  in  this  case  if  you  had  asked  me  I 
should  have  given  you  a  stronger,  better  written  letter 
of  praise.  However,  if  our  friends  can't  quote  us  then 
there's  no  such  thing  as  friendship.  But  I  did  groan 
over  my  "Romeike";  from  coast  to  coast  every  newspaper 
and  magazine  worth  while  contained  that  letter.  Surely 
a  tribute  to  your  popularity !  My  boy,  if  you  think  you 
can  quarrel  with  your  old  Uncle  James  you  are  mistaken. 
I've  only  a  handful  of  friends  left  from  the  old  days,  two 


TO  HENRY  L.  MENCKEN  217 

decades  ago — you,  Vance,  Joe  Clarke,  Vic  Herbert — and 
I  intend  to  keep  them.  Your  splendid  and  certainly  de- 
served success  has  not  reached  the  crumpled-rose  petal 
period,  and  I  fully  sympathize  with  your  feeling.  But  I 
meant  no  harm.  In  the  Stephen  Whitman  case  the 
Flaubert  allusion  was  intended  as  a  compliment.  Irony 
is  not  one  of  my  successful  weapons.  (In  Bovary  Flau- 
bert gives  us  the  thoughts  of  Emma  and  Charles  as  they 
lie  awake  at  night.  Mr.  Whitman,  who  is  a  gifted  chap, 
employs  the  same  device,  and  with  ample  success.) 
Really  Rupert  you  must  not  become  suspicious.  You 
are  too  frank  a  nature.  For  twenty  years  I've  not  failed, 
I  hope,  in  my  friendship.  And  don't  forget  that  Puck  is 
limited  as  to  space.  Also  that  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  stared  death  in  the  face  (On  Feb.  29th  they  quite 
gave  me  up).  I've  been  dazed  ever  since,  and  your  letter 
gave  me  another  shock.  How  little  we  know  each  other, 
after  all !  You  the  brilliantly  successful  man  of  letters 
finding  fault  with  the  poor  old  critic  of  Flatbush !  Well, 
I  know  you  didn't  mean  to  hurt  me,  though  you  did. 
Yours  as  ever  "previously"  and  in  the  future. 

Jim 


To  Henry  L,  Mencken 

Westminster  Court 
July  18/16 
My  Dear  H.  L.  ^     ^ 

With  the  best  wishes  in  the  world  I  can't  see  my  way 
clear  to  join  that  festive  board.  Apart  altogether  from 
the  remoteness  of  the  date — for  who  can  make  an  en- 
gagement so  far  ahead — I  never  go  out  Sundays.  It  is 
my  one  sure  work  day,  when  I  tackle  a  cluttered-up  desk. 
But  I  should  like  to  see  you  that  week,  say  Monday, 


2i8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Aug.  14.  I  always  go  to  the  city  on  Mondays.  Bank, 
beer,  &c.  I'm  sorry  I  can't  join  the  gang.  Strube  I've 
not  seen  for  20  years,  at  least.  He  is  a  mighty  fine  mu- 
sician and  a  good  chap. 

I  enclose  clipping  from  last  Sunday's  Times  (awful 
mug  of  mine!).  No,  I  simply  hit  the  eternal  "triangle" 
johnnies  a  wallop.  Adultery  has  been  done  to  death. 
It's  worse  than  "uplift."  I  don't  change  my  spots  over 
night.  In  the  concrete  adultery  is  the  same  old  teasing 
device:  pruritus  and  vanity  I  But  these  bores  who  write 
such  stupid  English  always  are  moral;  always  preach. 
The  wages  of  sin  is  death !  Still,  I  find  my  sermon  a  bit 
overheated  for  summer.  Keep  cool !  I've  just  finished 
"The  Buffoon"  by  Louis  Wilkinson.  It's  very  amusing. 
Read  it.  It  will  be  pie  for  you  in  S.  S.  [Smart  Set].  By 
the  way,  won't  you  please  let  me  know  when  that  story 
of  mine,  "Brothers-in-law,"  appears.  I  nearly  missed 
the  "Venus  Valkyr."  I  want  to  save  it.  No  hurry,  of 
course.     Had  a  death  in  the  family.     Funeral  in  Phila. 

A  sad  blow  to  us  all.  a 

As  ever,  j^^ 

To  Henry  L    Mencken 

Westminster  G)urt 

Dear  Mencken: 

Don't  get  scared !  It's  not  copy  for  sale.  I  am  inter- 
ested in  your  Conrad  articles,  and  so,  I  think,  will  be 
J.^C.  himself.  I'm  enclosing  my  interview  with  him 
which  appeared  in  the  N.  Y.  Sunday  Times  Oct.  12/19 12 
(mark  the  date  !)  I  regret  I  didn't  put  it  in  "Ivor^-"  &c. 
for  it  was  written  hot  ofi"  the  griddle,  and  I  think  it  a 
better,  because  swifter,  summary  of  the  man  and  his 


TO  HENRY  L.  MENCKEN  219 

books  than  the  article  that  first  appeared  in  the  N.  A. 
Review,  and  later  in  "Ivory."  That  particular  piece 
was  to  serve  a  two-fold  purpose  and  is  in  nowise  a  com- 
prehensive study;  it  dealt  chiefly  with  C.  technique — not 
many  studies  have  thus  far  done  so;  and  it  combats  the 
idea  that  C.  has  no  women  admirers,  or  that  he  can't 
handle  women  as  stuff  for  his  fiction.  Please  remember 
that  in  19 14  the  old  gag  still  prevailed;  hence  my  narrow 
specialization.  Naturally  I  don't  pretend  to  have  "dis- 
covered" J.  C.  That  would  be  a  comical  claim.  But  I 
was  the  first  Yankee  to  print  an  interview  (he  is  hard  to 
come  at).  We  have  corresponded  since  19 10,  when  he 
was  ill  with  typhoid  fever. 

Why  am  I  pelting  your  ear  drums  with  this  stale  talk? 
Because  I  never  knew  any  of  his  publishers  and  went 
after  the  man  on  my  own  hook  for  my  own  story.  You 
are  right,  that  "Ivory"  &c.  essay  is  solemn  and  pedes- 
trian and  slurous.  Perhaps  you  haven't  seen  the  en- 
closed. If  you  have — a  1000  pardons.  It  has,  at  least, 
the  merit  of  being  "lived."  Would  you,  entre  nous  put 
it  in  my  1917  book  of  essays?  Or  will  it  be  repetition? 
J.  C.  is  afloat  now  and  I  think,  I  hope,  making  money. 
Mencken  my  lad.  The  N.  Y.  Sun  (morning)  sent  for  me 
last  week  and  after  4  years  absence  from  the  editorial 
page,  I'm  back  this  week.  Only  editorial,  or  semi- 
editorial  articles.  Free  lance  as  to  themes.  Good  money. 
New  proprietor  &c.  Keep  the  thing  to  yourself  for  the 
present.  I  shall  continue  to  write  for  Puck  and  also  The 
Times.  Must  have  geld.  Will  you  like  a  friend  and 
brother  send  this  Conrad  story  back  at  your  leisure. 

CordiaHy, 

James  Huneker 


220    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Postcard  to  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Flatbush-by-the  C.(emetery)  Aug.  1916 
Keep  the  Symons  article  as  long  as  you  see  fit.  I'll 
do  what  I  can  in  re  Dreiser — if  I'm  permitted.  Such 
slush  that  society  is  up  to.  They  stopped  sale  of  Pryby- 
zewski's  "Homo"  &c.  so  Knopf  tells  me.  I  hope  to  take 
a  sea  trip  early  in  Sep.     Hope  you  are  standing  heat. 

Greetings ! 

J.  H. 

Look  at  Sunday  Sun  book  page  Aug.  13th. 
McFee  is  a  big  fellow — not  an  artist  yet. 

Postcard  to  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Havana  Sept.  13/16 
No  hay  fever,   despite  heat,   humidity  and  tropical 
vegetation.     Beautiful  city — busy  people.     Hope  to  see 
you  in  Oct.     Greetings. 

J.  H. 

To  Felix  F.  Leijels 

Felix  Leifels  was  for  many  years  manager  of  the  Philharmomc 
Society  of  New  York,  a  position  from  which  he  resigned  about  a 
year  ago. 

Westminster  Court: 

Dear  Felix 

I  looked  around  the  house  this  afternoon  for  you  but 
in  vain.  I  saw  Henry  Burck,  and  spoke  with  him. 
Sorry  to  have  missed  you.  We  waited  till  the  V.  R.  de, 
and  then  left  after  a  very  interesting  afternoon;  interest- 
ing, not  thrilling,  though  the  new  storm  music  simply 
piles  Pelion  on  Ossa;  Beethoven  on  Rossini;  and,  to  cap 
the  grand  climacteric,  on  Liszt — you  remember  the  hell 


TO  EDWARD  P.   MITCHELL  221 

of  a  noise  he  stirs  up  in  Tasso  !  Never  mind — only  R.  S. 
could  have  painted  such  an  imposing  tonal  canvas.  And 
nearly  all  diatonic  I  and  Teutonic !  Thanks  for  the  seats. 
Hope  we  meet  Nov.  6 — ;  and  if  you  care  to  make  it 
Nov.  7  (election  day)  I  shan't  complain.  Good  luck  on 
tour  I  Viele  Griisse  for  Mr.  Stransky.  His  band  played 
bully  and  big  I  Sincerely  with 

remembrances  from  Mrs.  Huneker 
I  am  As  Ever 

Jim 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

Westminster  Court: 

My  Dear  Mr.  Mitchell 

May  I  ask  for  the  privilege  of  proof  for  enclosed  story 
— which  is  as  full  of  modern  instances  as  ancient  saws. 
I  shall  esteem  it  a  personal  favor.  My  handwriting  I 
know  is  hopeless,  yet  the  mistakes,  purely  typographical 
I  hope  in  my  printed  stuff  are  becoming  alarming.  The 
Mallock  story  was  disfigured  by  such  breaks  as  "Inten- 
tion," when  I  wrote  of  Bergson's  "Intuition."  I  am, 
I  know,  to  blame;  but  worse  follows.  In  the  "New  York 
of  the  Novelists,"  (Sunday  Nov.  5th)  from  De  Quincey's 
"Opium  Eater"  was  sadly  misquoted.  Any  schoolgirl 
knows  it,  "Oxford  Street,  Stony-hearted  Stepmother." 
It  came  out  "Strong"  in  print !  Nor,  on  the  same  page 
was  "Emma  Bovary's  Tomb"  right.  It  masked  as 
"Touch";  nor  was  Henry  Harland's  "The  Yoke  of  the 
Torah"  spared.  It  was  printed  Torch,  but  there  is  ex- 
cuse for  this  as  the  Hebrew  "Torah"  (sacred  scroll)  is 
an  unusual  word  for  a  fiction  tale.  E  tutti  quanti !  How- 
ever, as  I  am  not  expected  to  turn  in  copy  any  particular 


222    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

day,  and  if  it  won't  incommode  the  machinery  of  the 
office  I  should  very  much  like  to  have  a  peep  at  my  proof 
once  in  a  while.  I  promise  to  return  it  promptly,  also  not 
to  make  any  additions;  only  to  correct;  if  there  are  any 
excisions  to  be  made,  and  I  am  told  my  copy  is  so  and 
as  many  lines  too  long,  then  I  could  make  them  with  a 
reasonable  confidence.  The  Mallock  story  had  all  the 
personal  quality  extracted  by  the  forceps  of  an  accom- 
plished dental  surgeon.  Tnis  wail  will  I  hope  reach  sym- 
pathetic ears.  What  do  you  think  of  a  correspondent's 
suggestion  (sometime  in  last  week's  issue)  that  a  "Gour- 
met's Guide  to  N.  Y."  be  written.  Couldn't  it  be  done 
in  2  cols,  over  my  initials?         sincerely 

James  Huneker 


To  Richard  Aldricb 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Dick  Nov.  23/16 

Thanks  for  your  kind  and  interesting  letter.  Billy 
Henderson  called  the  turn  the  other  day  when  he  met 
me  on  the  Avenue:  Murio-Celli,  he  said;  and  then,  a 
remarkable  memory  his,  he  gave  me  the  real  name  of 
Zelocco,  my  "limpty  go  fetch  it"  soprano  (coloratura). 
I  had  forgotten  her  name,  but  as  soon  as  I  described  her 
to  W.  J.  H.  he  knew.  She  sang  20  years  ago — less  I 
think — at  a  Waldorf-Astoria  concert — plush  and  Seidl. 
She  was  lame,  a  Belgian  girl,  dark.  Paolo  Gallica  made 
his  N.  Y.  debut  that  night  with  her.  Who  she  was,  how 
she  sang,  where  she  is  I  know  not.  Her  lameness  was 
more  interesting  to  me  than  her  larynx.  I  used  it  as  a 
peg  for  my  discourse;  but  the  two  are  portraits  from  life. 
I  can't  get  about  opera  or  concerts  till  after  Jan.  ist;  I 


TO  FELIX  E.   LEI  PELS  223 

must  even  miss  the  Gluck  rehearsal  this  morning,  which 
pains  me.  I'm  on  several  jobs  for  cash.  I  must  make 
up  that  yawning  deficit  caused  by  my  sickness  last  Spring 
and  3  months*  enforced — and  delightful — laziness.  "Oh 
for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness,"  as  Billy  Cowper 

^  *  As  Ever  t 

Jim 

To  Felix  E.  Leijels 

Westminster  Court:  Dec.  8/16 
Dear  Felix 

Thank  you  for  your  courtesies.  I  can't  always  get 
over,  I'm  so  busy,  but  depend  upon  it  the  tickets  are 
not  wasted.  The  story  of  the  N.  Y.  Philharmonic  So- 
ciety is  at  last  in  the  typist's  hands.  I  expect  it  back 
Sat.  night.  Sunday  I'll  work  at  it;  whip  it  into  shape 
and  Monday  or  Tuesday  next  I'll  personally  deliver  it 
at  your  office.  I'll  not  risk  the  crowded  mails.  It's 
about  8,000  words — long  enough  to  float  a  half  dozen, 
even  a  dozen  pictures.  Felix,  I've  not  attempted  any 
fancy,  ornamental  writing,  no  "hifaluting"  rhetoric. 
The  subject  is  too  grave,  too  dignified  for  anything  but 
sober,  unadorned  prose.  Nor  do  I  think  Mr.  Flinsch 
will  disagree  with  me  on  this  point.  I've  stuck  to  my 
subject,  which  is,  the  N.  Y.  Philharmonic  Society — the 
orchestra  comes  first;  then  the  conductors.  I've  named 
no  solo  singers  or  performers.  Only  the  novelties  for 
orchestra,  etc.  are  mentioned — since  1902  I've  "played 
up"  King  Theodore  Thomas — and,  of  course,  Seidl.  The 
present  incumbent,  Stransky,  gets  his  dues.  Krehbiel's 
name  occurs  once — as  you  both  suggested  at  our  last 
meeting.  It  is  unavoidable,  as  I  boil  down  his  book  to 
5  or  6  pages.     So  at  the  beginning  I  speak  of  his  Memo- 


224    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

rial.  I've  endeavored  to  attain  precision  and  concision. 
I've  written  the  narrative  for  what  it's  worth — any  more 
than  my  number  of  words  might  prove  prolix.  Three 
complete  lists  of  the  personnel  of  the  orchestra  I  had  to 
print:  1842,  1892,  and  191 7.  These  are  the  3  significant 
dates.  But  I  have  "run  in"  the  names  in  the  text  so 
that  the  reader  will  not  be  confounded  with  a  page  dot- 
ted with  small  type.  There  is  no  padding.  I've  dwelt 
on  the  necessity  of  public  co-operation — the  idea  of  Mr. 
Flinsch — and  the  story  ends  with  a  veiled  appeal  (only  a 
hint,  a  suggestion)  that  the  day  of  Philharmonic  Hall 
must  come.  (Another  idea  of  Mr.  Flinsch's.)  I  hope 
you  won't  be  disappointed  with  the  copy.  I  did  my 
level  best  with — I  confess  rather  "tough"  material. 
Some  statistics  were  unavoidable;  but  I  dodged  financial 
ones.  I'd  rather  go  to  the  trenches  than  tackle  such  a 
job  again.  I  sweat  blood,  yet  it  gave  me  a  melancholy 
sort  of  pleasure.  My  entire  musical  past  history  is 
bound  up  in  the  history  of  the  Society.  Theodore 
Thomas  was  our  first  master.  I  can  go  back  to  1870 — 
Phila. !  Now  if  I  don't  see  you  let  me  have  proof.  I 
must  positively  read  every  line.  Page  proof  I  hope — 
not  galley. 

As  Ever  with  thanks  and  regards  j 


To  Miss  Cora  Williams 

Westminster  Court:  161 8  Beverly  Road 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  Dec.  30/16 

My  dear  Miss  Williams: 

I  confess  I  read  your  name  at  the  bottom  of  your  sym- 
pathetic letter  with  some  trepidation.  My  uncritical 
consciencf  has  been  uneasy  since  that  review  (?)  ap- 


TO  MISS  CORA  WILLIAMS  225 


peared.     I  said  as  much  in  a  note  to  my  old  friend  Mr. 
Markham — for  to  him  I  owe  the  pleasure  of  your  4th 
dimensional  personahty  (good  heavens,  lady,  how  could 
you  think   I   doubted  the  possession  of  a  very  strong 
subtle   personality!).     I   read    "Creative   Involution"* 
through  twice  the  same  day — made  some  notes  during 
second  reading.     Then    I  wrote,  without  proper  assimila- 
tion, the  notice — which  was  too  Hunekeresque,  as  you  say, 
and  to  my  discomfiture.     I  hadn't  read  4th  dimensional 
literature  for  years  and  you  simply  made  my  hair  stand, 
my  scalp  freeze.     You  sent  me  back  to  Claude  Bragdon, 
who  had  always  intrigued  me;  of  course  I  didn't  do  your 
finely  spun  web  of  thought  justice.     How  could  I  after 
only  two  hasty  readings?     I  said  "impersonal"  because 
you  handled  a  tremendous  theme  as  would  a  stern  logi- 
cian; i.  e.  without  "gush"  or  sentimentahty,  the  curse  of 
our  age.     I  loathe  sloppy  humanitarianism,  and  prefer  an 
army  of  Nietzsches  to  a  slobbering  altruist.     Naturally 
you  "reacted"  to  my  mental  reservations  for  you  are  a 
"psychic"  even  if  you  had  never  thought,  never  wrote. 
What  I  said  of  Henry  James  I  can  say  of  Cora  W^illiams, 
— that  she  has  a  luminous  intelligence;  true  mystics  have. 
And  please  do  not  convict  me  of  that  odious  method  in 
which  so  many  male  writers  indulge;  i.  e.  patronizing  the 
"female"   intellect   as   if  something  new  and  strange. 
There  should  be  no  sex  in  author  philosophy.    Your  "im- 
personahsm"   is   in  your   admirable   literary  method — 
that's  what  I  meant,  not  in  yourself.    There  are  no  types; 
only   individuals — souls.     An   old   contention   of  mine. 
But  it's  true,  isn't  it,  Miss  Williams — mathematicians  are 
often  mystics !     I've  read  widely,  rather  than  deeply  in 

*  "  Creative  Involution,"  by  Cora  L.  Williams.    Published  by  Alfred  A.  Knopf, 
Inc.,  1916. 


226    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

mystic  literature,  because  I  was  raised  a  Roman  Catholic, 
even  destined  for  the  priesthood.  (The  usual  feminine 
sirocco  supervened !)  So  interested  was  I  in  Abbott*s 
"Flatland"  and  James  Hinton,  that  I  wrote  a  Fourth 
Dimensional  romance  in  a  volume  of  short  stories:  "Melo- 
maniacs"  (1900).  The  story  is  called:  "The  Disen- 
chanted Symphony"  and  it  is  absurd;  but  even  in  its 
absurdity  I  felt  that  music  (which  I  once  named  as  "an 
order  of  mystic,  sensuous  mathematics")  was  in  an 
extra-Terrestrial  dimension.  Furthermore,  in  my  "Vi- 
sionaries" I  dared  to  employ  Karma  as  a  theme  in  a  tale 
entitled,  "The  Third  Kingdom."  If  you  care  to  see 
these  volumes —  I  But,  there,  I  didn't  intend  to  write  of 
myself,  and  you,  like  the  woman  soul  you  are,  "drew" 
this  little  egotistical  fish  at  the  end  of  your  4th  dimen- 
sional hook.  I  fear  men  will  always  be  men  in  no  mat- 
ter what  strange  environment  they  are.  Salutations  and 
more  power  to  your  concrete  and  imaginative  pen. 

Your  friend,         j^^^^  Huneker 


1917 

To  Edward  P.  Mitchell 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Mr.  Mitchell  ^^^     ^'^ 

Last  Sunday's  discussion  of  Paul  Cezanne  was  not 
only  the  nub  of  my  discourse,  but  an  excuse  for  the 
treasurer  to  subtract  my  name  at  the  close,  the  very  last 
line,  and  send  me,  as  he  has  been  doing  for  weeks  past,  a 
quaint  and  embarrassing  cheque  for  $29.77;  or  (last  week), 
$26.40 — manifestly  underestimated.  It  reminds  me  of 
that  old  "wheeze"  of  Mark  Twain  in  "Roughing  It" 
about  the  rock-drill  operator,  who  "struck  oil"  so  hur- 
riedly that  the  liquid  exploded  and  he  was  blown  into  the 
sky  for  10  minutes;  when  he  fell  down  again  and  resumed 
work  the  company  that  employed  him,  docked  him  for 
the  time  he  was  absent !  Se  non  e  vero — I  Really,  Mr. 
Mitchell,  while  I  can't  always  measure  flat  two  columns 
I  think  that  as  a  minimum  wage  S30  is  not  too  much  for 
my  work  (I  could  say  more,  but  instinctive  Celtic  modesty 
cries  Halt!).  However,  a  bargain  is  a  bargain,  and  I 
suppose  the  finance  department  demands  its  pound  of 
flesh.  But  I  can't  help  believing  that  magazine  propri- 
etors, like  corporations,  are  sans  bowels.  Pardon  this 
outpouring.  It's  for  the  vestibule  of  your  ear.  As 
Ever  Cordially  j^^^^^  Huneker. 

227 


228    LETTERS  OF  JAMES   GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Pitts  Sanborn 

This  letter  was  in  reply  to  one  from  Mr.  Pitts  Sanborn,  music 
critic  of  The  New  York  Globe,  which  asked  for  information  "  on  the 
perennially  interesting  subject  of  Jews  in  music,  always  a  favorite 
with  Mr.  Huneker."  Indeed,  Mr.  Sanborn  says,  "he  seemed  at 
times  to  believe  that  genius  of  no  matter  what  kind  is  synonymous 
with  Jew." 

Westminster  Court:  1618  Beverly  Road 
Brooklyn,  March  27/17 

Dear  Mr.  Sanborn:  (Confidential) 

My  little  improvisation  brought  me  a  very  interesting 
letter  indeed.  The  meeting  with  Pachmann  (whose  right 
name  is  Waldemar  Bachmann — no  Von  or  De,  and  a  na- 
tive of  Odessa,  his  father  a  Kantor  in  a  local  school)  must 
have  been  immense.  When  in  the  mood  he  is  the  most 
ornamental  impresario  alive.  The  legato  story  is  true — 
few  possess  the  art.  Joseffy  achieved  the  legato  effect 
by  an  aerial  handling — or  footing — of  pedals.  But  the 
clinging  legatissimo  of  Pachmann,  Thalberg,  and  Pade- 
rewski  (in  his  prime)  he  did  not  boast.  His  ideal  touch 
was  aristocratic,  detached,  yet  on  the  ear  the  melodic 
line  was  never  staccato.  Pedalling — in  perfection.  As 
to  the  Jewish  note:  of  course,  I  meant  the  historical  dead, 
not  contemporaries.  Hummel — a  great  virtuoso,  Mo- 
scheles.  Heller,  Mendelssohn,  Thalberg,  down  to  Doehler, 
Herz — a  volley  from  the  land  of  the  pawnbroker.  How- 
ever, Paderewski  is  a  Roman  Catholic  even  if  his  touch 
has  a  luscious  oriental  richness.  But  oriental  doesn't 
mean  Semitic;  besides  the  Slavs  (Poles  and  Czechs  and 
Russians)  are  all  peculiarly  gifted  in  the  matter  of  touch. 
Think  of  Chopin,  Rubinstein !  No,  I  meant  no  narrow 
fencing  off,  only  it  is  remarkable  that  the  Jews  should  be 
such  great  executants.     Paganini  looked  Jewish;  Ysaye — 


TO  ALDEN  MARCH  229 

spell  it  Isaiah — was  of  Jewish  origin  in  Belgium — 30 
years  ago;  his  brother  was  called  Jacob  Ysaye,  a  pianist. 
Now  he  is  James.  And  Paderewski — whom  I  love  and 
admire  greatly — sent  me  his  photograph  20  years  ago 
and  on  the  back  it  was  addressed  to  "Jacob  Huneker- 
stein,"  a  neat  come-back  for  my  jesting  with  his  Chris- 
tian name.  This  is,  of  course,  all  entre-nous.  In  my 
own  case,  possibly  Magyar,  and  wholly  Irish.  The  Hun- 
ekers,  or  Hunykyrs,  were  in  Phila.  in  1700,  and  my  ances- 
tors fought  against  King  George.  Tm  a  Cooper  and  a 
Bowman,  English  on  the  distaff  side  of  my  father's  house; 
the  James  Gibbons  speaks  for  itself;  only,  my  God,  my 
dear  Sanborn,  my  grandfather  was  a  prohibitionist; 
actually  toured  the  country  in  1840-50  in  the  cause  of 
temperance,  and  our  family  thirst !  No,  I  don't  believe 
in  heredity.     Pardon  my  prolixity.     Your  letter  fired  ofif 

my  memory  cartridge,     q-   ___t-, 

bmcereiy       j^^^^  Huneker 

To  Alden  March 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Alden  March:  April  6/17 

Your  very  cordial  letter  deserves  a  return  in  kind; 

but  I  confess  I  can't  touch  even  its  hem,  for  you  lazy 

editors,  when  you  do  take  up  the  pen,  are  formidable 

indeed.     So  I  shan't  make  the  attempt  to  rival  your 

very  fraternal  words;  only  echo  them.     I've  had  in  my 

long  career  as  a  writer  for  the  press  (sound  the  ominous 

motive!  once  a  newspaper  man  toujours  une  cocotte !). 

Many  editors,   Sunday,   daily,   billygoats  and   bandits, 

but   I've   never  been  so  well  treated,   considering   my 

deserts,  as  by  one,  Alden  March,  formerly  Sunday  editor, 

N.  Y.  Times,  now  happily  translated  to  glory  as  the 


230    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

whole  shooting  match  on  the  Phila.  Press.  I  say  ft  be- 
cause I  mean  it.  And  I  confess  I  see  you  go  to  a  strange 
city,  a  stranger  in  a  strange.  land,  with  a  heavy  heart. 
New  York's  loss  is  Philadelphia's  gain.  Trite  but  un- 
avoidable sentiment. 

Good  luck!  best  wishes!  and  au  revoir !  are  the  last 
words  of  the  Huneker  clan!  Chorus:  He's  a  Jolly  good 
fellow  (if  he'd  only  take  to  drink) ! 

As  ever  your  humble  contributor  and  proud  friend ! 

James  Huneker 

To  Benjamin  de  Casseres 

Westminster  Court: 

Dear  Ben:  May  17/17 

I  owe  you  5000  apologies  for  my  protracted  silence; 
but  what  professional  penman  ever  likes  to  write  letters ! 
I'm  doing  nothing  now-a-days  but  playing  Bach,  Bee- 
thoven and  Brahms,  for  the  war  has  knocked  my  "line 
of  goods"  sky-high.  Let  us  hope  it  may  end  some- 
time !  I  read  all  you  print — principally  in  the  hospitable 
columns  of  the  incomparable  Don  Marquis — and  note 
your  Swinburnian  power  of  invective  and  melodious  in- 
dignation. You  have  enormous  rhythmic  gifts,  but  you 
can't  go  on  forever  at  your  dithyrambic  altitude.  You 
dazzle,  but  don't  burn.  You  will  disappear  altogether  in 
the  zenith.  Get  closer  to  earth,  good  old  vile  Mother 
Earth  !  Did  you  read  De  Gourmont's  "  Pendant  I'orage  "  ? 
You  are  mentioned  by  the  good  soul.  I've  a  httle  appre- 
ciation of  him  in  June  North  American  Review — but  it  had 
to  be  cut  and  so  wait  till  my  new  book*  appears  in  the 
autumn  for  a  brief,  swift  estimate  of  that  great  critic's 
versatihty.     As   I   go  nowhere,   not  even  to  Jack's  at 

*  "Unicorns." 


TO  HENRY  L.   MENCKEN  231 

luncheon,  I  don't  know  when  I'll  see  you,  except  by  acci- 
dent, as  was  the  meeting  with  Jack  O'Brien  last  month. 

As  ever,  j 

Jim 

To  John  D.  Williams 

Mr.  John  D.  Williams,  the  theatrical  producer,  an  admirer  and 
friend  of  Mr.  Huneker,  had  been  anxious  to  bring  about  a  meeting 
between  him  and  Mr.  Barrymore. 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Mr.  Williams:  J^^y  "/i7 

The  fact  that  you  said  a  copy  of  "Robe  Rouge"  was 
not  to  be  found  sent  me  up  to  Scribners  (48th  &  Fifth 
Ave.)  and,  as  they  have  an  excellent  French  Department, 
the  play  was  easy  to  procure.  Moral:  when  Brentano's 
fail,  try  elsewhere !  I  have  not  the  play  in  my  library. 
I  fear  I  can't  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Lionel 
Barrymore  Just  now.  I'm  up  to  my  eyes  in  work — read- 
ing proof  of  new  Fall  book;  patching  several  plays.  I'm 
literally  afraid  to  go  out  in  the  dark.  Thank  you  very 
much  for  the  invitation.  I've  not  seen  Lionel  since  he 
was  a  lad  in  knickerbockers;  when  his  sister  was  a  pupil 
at  Notre  Dame  school,  Rittenhouse  Square,  Philadelphia. 
Time  fugues.  Men  are  become  grizzled.  Ex  patad, 
patata !  I  hope,  however,  to  see  you  some  time  at  mid- 
day along  the  new  Rialto.    Good  luck  I 

Sincerely, 

James  Gibbons  Huneker 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Hal  Brooklyn  N.  Y.  Oct.  18/17 

The  book*"  came  and  though  parts  were  familiar  I  de- 
voured it  en  masse  at  a  sitting.     It's  a  bully  book,  full  of 

•  "A  Book  of  Prefaces,"  by  H.  L.  Mencken,  1917. 


232    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

the  vim  and  virility  of  bold  youth  ripened  by  knowledge 
and  the  juste  critical  milieu.  What  pleased  me  most  was 
the  last  chapter,  a  magnificent  arraignment  of  puritanism 
— it  should  have  opened  the  book.  As  for  the  J.  H. 
(James  Huneker)  it  is  despairingly  exaggerated — why, 
warum,  pourquoi,  perche?  A  newspaper  man  in  a  hell 
of  a  hurry  writing  journalese  is  not  to  be  dumped  into 
the  seat  of  the  mighty  so  easily.  But  I'm  again  in  your 
debt.  I  thank  you  as  a  friend  and  brother.  I  may  see 
you  sooner  than  you  think.  Read  The  Phila.  Press  on 
Sat.  &  Sunday  next — musical  articles.  I  expect  to  go  to 
Phila.  two  days  every  week — though  Tm  not  sure  I  can 
stand  the  travel.  It's  pure  boodle.  I  need  it.  What's 
the  row  over  W.  H.  W.?  I  note  he  is  not  on  the  job 
with  The  Mail,  and  a  certain  "J.  G."  slams  George  Jean 
hard  last  Sat. 

Hope  to  see  you  soon  and  tell  you  in  your  ears  what  I 
think  of  the  book.  But  what  a  hell  of  a  row  it's  bound  to 
raise !  You  are  to  be  congratulated.  You  have  the  fight- 
ing spirit.  Mine  has  vanished — 30  years  precisely  (1887) 
since  I  began  and  now  I  only  yearn  for  Mozart,  Phila. 
pepper-pot,  and — God !  my  eyes  are  bhnd  with  unshed 
tears — real  Pilsner  from  PIzu.     No  more  salicylic  acid 

for  me.    A  Moi !    A  moi !  \^  p^^r 

^s  ever,  j^^^ 


To  H.  E.  Krebbiel 

Westminster  Court 
Oct  22/17 

Dear  Harry 

Only  a  line  to  say  that  Scribners  returned  me  here  a 
copy  of  my  new  explosion,  "Unicorns,"  which  was  sent 
to  you  at  above  address  Sept.  15  as  no  one  was  home. 


TO  RICHARD  ALDRICH  233 

1  tell  you  this,  not  that  your  loss  is  great,  but  to  show  you 
I  didn't  omit  your  beloved  name  from  my  list.  Then 
Vernon  wrote  me  and  I  knew  you  had  returned.  Pardon 
the  delay.  I've  written  S.  &  S.  in  this  mail  so  you  will 
get  ** Eddie"  Ziegler's  dedicated  book. 

Enclosed  may  surprise  you.  I  go  to  Phila  weekly  now 
only  Friday  &  Saturdays  to  write  for  Rodman  Wana- 
maker's  paper — "The  Press"  &c.,  and  get  more  money 
in  24  hours  than  I  earned  on  Park  Row  in  2  weeks.  It 
pays  to  advertise!  (Ha!)  It's  easy  except  the  2  hour 
train  traffic  and  money  is  scarce  in  N.  Y.  and  it's  going  to 
be  scarcer  later.  You  may  note  if  you  bother  to  read 
the  stuff  that  I  still  have  the  Krehbiel  quotation  habit, 
and  Tm  too  old  to  unlearn  it.  I  am  so  wretched  about 
not  being  able  to  go  to  Ed.  Dithmar's  funeral  but,  alas !  the 
Phila.  orchestra  gave  its  afternoon  concert  and  I  had  to 
be  on  the  job.  I  don't  know  of  any  death  that  has  so 
shocked  me.  Lord!  Harry,  we  are  all  lining  up  now- 
adays. I  rejoiced  to  hear  from  Vernon  you  were  in  rude 
health.  I  expect  to  see  more  of  you  this  season.  I'm 
again  in  the  musical  trenches. 

As  Ever  with  Love  j 


To  Richard  Aldrich 

The  Hotel  (No  Gentiles  admitted !) 

Atlantic  City,  N.  J. 
Dear  Dick  Oct.  28/17 

I  thank  you  for  your  nice  letter  which  heartens  me  in 
a  new  job.  I  hope  you  found  the  furniture  in  order  at 
your  shop,  though  several  pictures  I  left  behind  me  will 
have  their  faces  turned  to  the  wall.  (Come  into  the 
Garden — Mary !)     However,  I  was  treated  as  never  be- 


234    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

fore  in  a  newspaper  office.  I  trod,  and  was  trod  on, 
with  velvet.  The  staff  was  amiability  itself.  As  to 
you  finding  things  different — your  copy  sounds  as  fresh 
as  spring;  the  rest  really  did  you  good.  I  had  15  years 
cessation  from  the  grind,  so  I  came  back  as  fresh  as  paint. 
Don't  you  worry.  You  play  ball,  i.  e.  write  criticisms  of 
music.  I  don't,  although  I  shall  try  to  this  season.  And 
what  a  horror  is  before  us !  I  couldn't  resist  sending  you 
that  little  joke,  knowing  that  you  must  have  felt  as  morti- 
fied as  I  did  a  year  ago  when  I  saw  the  unrevised  first  edi- 
tion stuff  of  mine.  Indeed,  I'm  suffering  here  as  I  see  no 
proof  of  my  Sunday  World  stuff.  We  go  up  after  4  weeks 
in  this  Jerusalem.     Regards  to  H.  E.  K.  &  W.  J.  H.  and 

to  yourself.  ^    j-  tt 

*^  Coraially  as  ever, 


Jim 


To  Alden  March 


This  letter  was  written  to  Mr.  Alden  March  shortly  after  he  had 
left  the  position  as  Sunday  editor  of  The  New  York  Times  to  take 
complete  charge  of  The  Philadelphia  Press.  Mr.  March  immediately 
arranged  to  have  Mr.  Huneker  write  for  The  Press — an  arrangement 
which  ultimately  resulted  in  the  serialization  in  The  Press  of  Mr. 
Huneker's  autobiography,  "Steeplejack." 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Alden: 

Here  is  Sunday  copy.  Thanks  for  clippings.  Your 
proof-reader  must  be  a  miracle  of  erudition;  not  to  men- 
tion his  optical  process.  You  are  to  lunch  with  me  at 
McGowan's  at  1:15  (quarter  after  one)  on  Friday.  I  go 
over  on  the  11,  arrive  at  i  o'clock,  rush  to  Denney's  where 
I  hope  to  find  you.  Then  after  feeding  we  can  go  to 
club  get  tickets  and  proceed  to  concert — for,  of  course, 
you  will  be  glad  to  hear  Matzenauer.     (In  Yiddish  her 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  235 

name  means — Matzoth — hewer !)  But — voice  I !  If  you 
wish  to  change  this  let  me  know  by  first  mail  Friday  (it 
arrives  at  8:30).  I  should  like  to  have  proof  of  enclosed 
Friday.  So  fetch  it  along,  if  it  isn't  troubling  you  too 
much.  I  should  also  like  to  talk  with  you  about  the 
messenger-boy  problem.  A  grave  one.  I  couldn't  get 
one  last  Friday  at  7  o'clock;  we  rang  from  the  club  to 
Broad  &  Chestnut,  15th  &  Chestnut.  No  boys!  No 
prospect  of  one.  Finally  I  went  over  to  1420  South  Penn 
Square — no  boy  for  an  hour.  Cursing  Penn  and  his  town 
I  went  to  the  Press  office  myself.  No  alternative.  I 
didn't  mind  it,  and  I  shan't  charge  you  carfare,  but  how 
about  the  future?  Rainy,  snowy,  stormy,  hellish  nights ! 
Think  it  over  Mr.  Editor.  Talk  about  foreign  trans- 
portation problems !  If  I  don't  hear  from  you  I'll  be  at 
Mac's — upstairs — for  pepper  pot  and  a  confab.  You 
simply  must  go  to  the  concert.  (The  Boston  Symphony 
is  impossible.  I've  an  engagement  with  the  Missus.  Be- 
sides— the  Fifth  Symphony  of  Beethoven,  no  novelties.) 

As  ever,  t 

To  H,  E.  Krebbiel 

Westminster  Court 

_  ^_.  Brooklyn  Nov.  20/17 

Dear  Harry 

Only  a  line  to  tell  you  that  I  am  distressed  that  you 
are  not  feeling  up  to  concert-pitch.  Also  to  gently  re- 
mind you  that  after  your  demise  the  critic  of  music  on 
The  Tribune — whoever  he  may  be — will  continue  to  write 
what  he  thinks.  Consider  the  case  of  W.  Winter.  None 
of  us  is  necessary — not  a  consoling  thought;  worse  still, 
"mankind  is  not  necessary,"  the  earth  could  dispense 
with  his  presence  and  continue  to  roll  through  space  with 


236    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

majestic  phlegm.     Nevertheless,  I  sympathize  with  your 

feelings.     Building  up  for  four  decades  only  to  be  pulled 

down  in  a  few  years.     But  don't  worry,  above  all  else. 

Worry  never  was  of  use — even  a  bad  conscience — which 

you  haven't — does  not  always  make  for  righteousness.   Go 

away,  enjoy  yourself  (I  fear  you  have  laid  up  a  dubious 

old  age  for  yourself  because  you  play  neither  cards  nor 

Bach!     Pity  me!  "Aida"  in  Phila.  tonight.     I  go  over 

at  4  p.  M.     What  to  write?    I  have  it !    I'll  tell  the  good 

Philadelphians  that  "Aida"  was  not  written  to  celebrate 

the  opening  of  the  Suez  Canal  (Vide  "A  Book  of  Operas") 

see  Sunday  papers  there,  one  and  all  printed  that  fact — 

probably  press  stuff  from  Billy  Guard  otherwise — Ric- 

cardo  Martin,  Claudia  Muzio !    And  we  can  recall  a  few 

Aidas — what !    Yes,  you  are  right — R.  Strauss  is  a  plain 

Munich  philisten;  but  then,  so  was  Flaubert — the  master 

of  fiction.     I  hope  to  hear  good  news  from  you  and  Mrs. 

Krehbiel  soon.  \ir*u  t         at? 

With  Love  As  Ever  j 


To  Mme,  Frida  Asbfortb 

Westminster  Court: 

My  Dear  Frida 

Just  a  line  to  ask  you  if  you  have  returned  to  town ! 
I  had  Scribners  send  you  my  new  book  "Unicorns"  last 
September,  but  each  time  the  man  tried  to  deliver  it  the 
house  was  closed.  As  I  wish  you  to  have  my  "latest" — 
truly  a  book  of  gossip — do  drop  me  a  line  here  and  I'll 
let  the  Scribners  know.  If  you  are  not  at  your  town 
house  just  say  where  you  are.  I  hope  you  are  well.  We 
often  talk  of  you.  Fancy  your  old  chum  back  in  the 
critical  trenches !     I  go  over  to  Phila.  Tuesday  nights  for 


TO  MME.   FRIDA  ASHFORTH  237 

opera  (last  night  "La  fille  du  Regiment"  I)  and  Friday 
for  the  Phila.  Symphony  Orchestra,  a  critical  account  of 
both  I  write  for  The  Phila.  Press — Rodman  Wanamaker's 
newspaper.  The  work — apart  from  the  dreadful  trips, — 
is  easy  for  me  and  it  pays!  I  assure  you  I  need  the 
money  as  the  war  has  sadly  lopped-off  my  income.  But, 
sacre  nom  d'une  pipe!  What  singers,  what  singers  now- 
adays; outside  of  Caruso  and  Hempel,  the  rest  don't  sing 
but  squeal  and  shout.  Farrar  is  an  exception  too — a  fas- 
cinating personality,  an  artistic  law  unto  herself;  she 
really  has  her  moments;  but  her  voice  is  getting  darker, 
and  thickens  in  the  middle-register  (so-called).  Alto- 
gether, dear  Frida,  I  console  myself  that  we — meaning 
you — have  heard  the  best.  I'm  really  anxious  for  you 
to  read  the  new  book — it's  crowded  with  memories. 
Alas !  ghosts,  for  the  most  part.  Poor  Teresita  Carrefio 
is  gone.  Do  you  recall  her  brief  operatic  career?  You 
were  in  the  company.     With  love  from  both  of  us 

^  ^^^^  Jim  Huneker 

To  Mme,  Frida  Asbjortb 

Westminster  Court 
,,  r^  ,  Dec.  19/17 

You  DEAR  Frida! 

The  picture  actually  made  me  homesick.  A  peaceful 
but  vanished  time !  It  stands  on  my  desk  where  I  now 
face  it  as  I  enter.     Thank  you,  old  pal ! 

I  hope  "Unicorns"  arrived.  I  had  a  lovely  letter  from 
Maurice  Maeterlinck  this  morning  about  the  book.  I'll 
save  it  for  your  eyes.  I  arrived  home  this  morning  at 
3.15  A.  M.  from  Phila.  on  special  Met.  Opera  House  Train. 
Florence  Easton  made  an  enormous  hit  last  night  over 
there  as — Santuzza.     A  singing  actress.     Temperament! 


238    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

But  is  smashing  her  voice  by  forcing — already  upper 
tones  pinched,  colorless.  A  big  voice  at  that.  But  an 
actress — like  Calv6 !  Fancy !  An  English  woman — wife 
of  the  American  Tenor  Francis  McLennan,  who  formerly 
sang  Wagner  roles  in  Berlin  &  Hamburg.  Caruso  as 
Canio!  is  there  ever  an  end  to  that  glorious  organ.  He 
is  a  bellows  on  legs,  and  a  jolly,  kind  chap. 

However,  I'm  tired  out  today.  I  had  to  write  a  col- 
umn before  our  train  left — and  a  column  about  such  stuff 
— musically  speaking — as  Mascagni  and  Leon — on  the — 
Cavallo.    Basta ! 

With  love  from  both  and  again  thanks  for  a  unique 
Christmas  present.  yours  As  Ever 

Jim  the  Huneker 
(or  as  they  now 

■KJT         r^L  •  ^        I  say:  *' Huneker korus") 

Merry  Christmas !  *^ 


To  Theodore  Presser 

Westminster  Court 
Dec.  30/17 
My  dear  Theodore: 

I'm  immensely  flattered  and  pleased  by  the  idea  of  a 

dinner,   but   I   can't  conscientiously   accept,   because   I 

never  go  to  dinners  public  or  semi-public.     I  never  make 

speeches,  because  I  can't  (though  I  can,  when  pressed, 

converse  fluently  with  a  barman);  and  so,  Theodore,  let 

the  projected  function — too  much  honor,  by  the  way,  for 

a  poor  music-reporter — modulate  into  a  quiet  luncheon, 

d  partie  cane  consisting  of  Mrs.  Presser,  Mr.  Presser,  Mr. 

Cooke  and  Yours  as  ever         j,„  Huneker 


1918 

Postcard  to  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Jan.  13/18    N.  Y. 

Thanks  for  quotations  on  stock  market,  but  it's  my 
belief  you  are  rigging  the  book  market.  They  ought  to 
be  my  posthumous  prices!  "Going  up'*  and  so  am  I  if 
hard  times  last.  Fishless  Fridays  will  soon  be  followed 
by  Beerless  Boozedays.  But  I'm  sitting  on  my  Quaker 
City  job,  cold  and  all,  and  only  longing  for  Spring  and 

^^^^  ^°^^-  As  ever  j^  ^ 

To  John  Quinn 

1 61 8  Beverly  Road 

_  _  Jan.  28,  1918 

Dear  John: 

Glad  to  hear  from  you.  We  went  to  the  Gallery, 
Tuesday,  Missus  and  I.  It's  the  best  show  of  the  sort 
I've  seen  outside  Paris;  furthermore  with  the  exception 
of  the  Redon  Salon  at  the  big  autumn  show  1904,  Paris, 
I  never  saw  so  many  beautiful  examples.  I  saw  the 
Matisse  last  week  and  wrote  a  hasty  paragraph — it's  a 
fine  show,  and  "The  Serf"  (at  only  $67^)  is  the  best 
bronze  I've  seen  since  the  early  Rodin.  But  I  can't 
afford  it  so  bought  an  humble  wood-cut  at  low  price. 
I'll  write  next  week  about  the  show — this  week  it's  all 
theatres,  show  &c.  a  busy  week.  The  trouble  with  my 
copy  is  that  it  must  be  in  3  weeks  after  the  event.  In 
a  word  after  a  show  has  closed  its  doors;  thereafter  I 
must  write  a  general  notice. 

I'm  better.     I'm  busy.     I've  a  commission  for  50,000 

239 


240    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

words  for  Schirmer — music — Edition  definitive,  Chopin. 
Joseffy  the  music  text — mine  reading  matter.  Not  much 
in  it;  but  a  half-Ioaf  now-a-days — !  I'll  be  chock  a  block 
till  April — opera  and  theatre.  Quite  a  lively  young  per- 
son again.  We  must  foregather  after  Lent.  Have  you 
seen  "Androcles"?  Good  but  not  as  good  a  cast  as 
London — barring  the  2  principals.  Missus  sends  regards. 
So  do  L  By  the  way,  John,  I  had  hoped  to  tell  you  that 
two  (2)  books  would  be  launched  this  spring.  But 
Scribners  decided — after  accepting  both  manuscripts — 
that  one  in  April,  one  in  October  would  be  the  proper 
caper.  Fm  all  the  more  sorry  because  the  volume  of 
essays  (with  a  gorgeous  title)  was  to  have  been  your  book; 
in  fact,  it  still  is  if  you  will  accept  the  dedication  so  far 
ahead.  It  contains  the  Joseph  Conrad,  the  Jules  La- 
forgue  and  sundry  other  studies.  The  spring  book  deals 
with  New  York  (certain  aspects)  and  some  European 
critics  (in  Belgium)  before  the  war.  Thrift,  Horatio! 
Not  a  book  to  dedicate  to  a  lover  of  the  seven  arts  hke 
you.  "Rheingold"  this  afternoon;  tonight  German  thea- 
tre, Irving  Place — then  Llichow's  till  12,  and  home.  I 
must  have  some  let  up.  ^^  Ever 


Jim 


To  Frank  J.  Wilstacb 


This  postal  was  a  reply  to  a  mocking  note  from  Mr.  Wilstach  as 
to  the  use  of  "not  as  good  as"  instead  of  "not  so  good  as." 

Flatbush  Feb.  4/18 

Of  course,  you  are  only  tone  deaf;  also  art  blind,  so 
why  fight  nature?  Your  ear  fails  in  prose  else  you  would 
not  speak  of  "as — as"  which  usage  years  ago  has  de- 
creed to  be  correct.     "So"  in  some  instances  is  O.  K. 


TO  LA  MARQUISE  DE  LANZA  241 

but  the  hissing  aspirate  "so — as" — phew  I  Where's  your 
ear.  Prose  is  like  music,  every  word,  every  letter  must 
be  placed  for  sound,  color,  nuance.  Grammar  must  go 
by  the  board  if  it  interferes  with  the  cadence — I  am  talk- 
ing now  of  artistic,  musical  prose,  not  of  newspaper  saw- 
dust.    As  for  grammar,  it  was  made  for  imbeciles  and 

schoolmarms.     Selah!       ^     ,.  tt 

Coraially, 

Jim  the  Penman 

To  La  Marquise  de  Lanza 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Madame: 

I  thank  you  for  your  very  kind  letter,  and  for  its  in- 
formation concerning  G.  M.  [George  Moore].  But  he 
w^as  really  born  in  1852.  The  family  records  prove  it.  I 
was  in  Dublin  in  19 14,  and  Yeats  told  me;  besides  that 
Colonel  Maurice  Moore,  his  younger  brother,  was  born 
1854.  That  cHnches  the  matter.  Yes,  men,  artistic  men 
— who  are  more  feminine  than  women — lie  about  their 
age;  lie  doubly.  Only  the  other  day  there  died  a  singer 
here,  famous  in  his  day — well,  after  60  he  only  added  10 
years  so  as  to  seem  spry  for  an  old  chap.  There's  a 
paradox  for  you  I  Heine  gave  a  false  birth  date;  it  has 
never  been  corrected.  I  fancy  Chopin  did  the  same. 
For  years  Sarah  Bernhardt  was  5  years  younger — now, 
having  passed  70  she  gives  the  true  date;  but  then,  her 
press-agents  may  have  been  to  blame. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  from  an  old  friend — for  I  still  have 
in  my  famous  collection  of  autographs  one  signed  'Clara 
Lanza,'  a  name  euphonious,  indeed ! 

Sincerely, 

James  Huneker 


242    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  La  Marquise  de  Lanza 

Westminster  Court 
Ma  Chere  Madame  Lanza:  Feb.  15/18 

Herewith  I  return  with  thanks  the  G.  M.  [George 
Moore]  letter — the  beginning  of  which  must  have  been 
interesting;  why  do  we  all  hke  to  see  the  other  side  of 
the  moon?  /  made  the  mistake.  George  is  the  eldest 
son.  Today  his  income  from  that  once  *  encumbered' 
estate  is  7000  pounds  a  year.  He  is  rich,  famous,  un- 
happy. Nothing  new  in  all  that.  Venerated  and  an- 
tique authorities  might  be  quoted  to  the  effect  that  it  is 
mankind's  fate  to  die  unhappy. 

As  to  the  age — I  believe  you.  Internal  evidence  is 
proof  presumptive.  And  the  old  Don  Juan  looks  his  age 
— looked  it  in  1901  when  I  first  met  him  at  Bayreuth. 
But  after  all,  what's  the  harm!  And  as  time  rolls  on 
I'm  convinced  that  he  is  worth  the  whole  kit  and  crew 
of  contemporary  English  writers — Shaw,  Bennett  &  the 
rest.  He  will  live.  He  is  a  great  critic,  novelist  and 
prose-master.  Only  Joseph  Conrad  may  be  mentioned 
in  the  same  breath.     Again  thanks ! 

Avec  reconnaissance 

James  Huneker 

To  Alden  March 

Westminster  Court 
Feb.  26/18  10  A.  M. 

(of  a  bright  windy  morning) 

You  Will  Please  Read  This  Personally ! 

My  Dear  Alden: 

It  will  not  be  possible  for  me  to  cover  the  Ysaye  affair 
— a  quite  insignificant  affair  of  the  Star  Course  and  coun- 


TO  ALDEN  MARCH  243 

try  Lyceum  sort — because  I  have  an  engagement  early  at 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Building  in  N.  Y.  with  the  Steinways 
and  the  Ayer  Advertising  people;  a  very  important  en- 
gagement for  me  as  it  closes  the  matter  which  I  spoke  to 
you  about — the  12  oil  paintings,  the  books  &c. 

I  phoned  the  Wolfsohn  Bureau  Sat.  morning  last  about 
Auer.  He  has  gone  west  for  a  few  weeks  with  his  accom- 
panist, Madame  Stein,  and  may  play — a  little.  He  is 
72.  Mr.  Adams,  head  of  the  Wolfsohn,  in  response  to 
my  question  whether  A.  would  speak  justly  i.  e.  critically 
of  his  various  pupils,  responded  in  the  negative.  He  is 
very  kind  and  praises  them  equally — which,  of  course, 
takes  all  the  sting  and  interest  from  an  interview.  If  he 
could  be  induced  to  tell  us  the  differences  in  Elman, 
Heifetz,  Rosen  &c.  then  the  story  would  be  readable. 
Others  evidently  think  the  same  thing;  only  The  Times 
printed  a  story — (for  The  Sun  wasn't  much,  and  The  Mu- 
sical Courier  was  only  a  puff).  There  is  absolutely  no 
interest  here  concerning  the  man — more's  the  pity.  He 
is  the  Warwick  of  all  these  young  aspirants  to  the  throne 
of  fiddling.  However,  he  may  be  induced  to  talk  more 
freely  later  in  the  season. 

I'll  be  at  Dooner's  about  1 130  p.  m.  tomorrow  Wednes- 
day. I  hope  you  can  go  up  for  an  hour  to  the  Dam- 
rosch  concert.  Your  personal  letter — the  first  you  ever 
wrote  me,  that  wasn't  dictated  and  typed,  I  have  filed 
in  my  cabinet  of  celebrities.  Say,  young  fellow,  don't 
overtax  your  strength  in  that  prodigal  fashion,  or  you'll 
be  having  a  surtax  on  your  nerves. 

With  regards,  As  Ever, 

James  Huneker 

P.  S.  I  met  Arthur  Davies  yesterday  afternoon  at  the 
Renoir  exhibition  (magnificent  show — Durand-Ruel)  and 


244    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I  promised  to  go  to  his  studio  East  57th  St.  and  see  his 
new  work.  There's  a  great  story  for  you  I — he  never  gives 
interviews,  but  we  are  fellow-Unicorns,  and  he  is  partial 
tome.    This  Spring!    What?    The  Sunday  Press? 

J.  H. 

P.  S.  S.    Now,  aren't  you  glad  you  read  this  yourself? 

J.  H. 


To  Henry  James,  Jr. 

Westminster  G)urt 

Dear  Mr.  James: 

Thank  you  for  your  letter.  Of  course,  I  fully  under- 
stand. It  is  irksome  to  mess  about  papers;  nevertheless, 
I  feared  you  would  be  called  away  to  France,  and  I 
wrote  you.  I  feel  confident  the  letters  are  only  mis- 
laid. When  you  have  leisure  do  think  of  me !  I  needn't 
tell  a  James  how  valuable,  how  superstitiously  sacred,  to 
me,  are  letters  from  William  the  Conqueror  I  And  such 
letters  to  an  insignificant  scribbler  like  myself  I 

I  hope  after  America  has  pulled  off  the  trick  you  will 
get  back  into  harness — the  hterary  harness.  The  war  is 
now  our  omnipresent  thought;  that  once  over  your  pious 
duty  is  to  the  memory  of  your  great  father.  And  I  hope 
you  will  pardon  this  little  prod  on  my  part.  If  I  hate 
the  Bocbes  for  many  things,  not  the  least  item  is  that 
they  have  hindered  you  in  your  work  on  the  James 
memoirs.  I  have  asked  Scribners  to  send  a  volume  of 
"Unicorns"  to  you.  Or  didn't  Vernon  forward  it?  It 
contains  some  shght  essays  on  your  uncle  Henry. 

As  ever,       j^^^^  Huneker 


TO  MRS.   EMMA  EAMES  245 


To  Mrs.  Emma  Eames 

Westminster  Court 

My  dear  Mrs.  Eames:  March  24/18   ^ 

Your  letter  was  a  pleasant  shock,  and  like  a  voice 
from  the  past — when  we  went  to  the  opera  in  our  youth- 
ful days  (1895  is  a  long  ways  off  isn't  it?) — for  I  had 
despaired  of  ever  hearing  from  you  again.  I  never  see 
young  Emma  Eames  any  more;  indeed,  the  profile  of 
New  York  musical  life  is  altered  beyond  recognition — a 
fatal  profile  of  which  tribe  you  may  easily  guess.  My 
hair  is  going  (I  was  58  in  January)  my  teeth  are  following 
suit,  but  my  hearing  is  still  excellent  and  my  heart  still 
beats  for  dear  old  friends,  for  the  dear  old  wonderful, 
musical  times.  Now  we  have  singing  actresses  and 
actors  (who  can't  sing  very  well,  because  they  haven't  the 
voice,  and  whose  acting  is  operatic,  not  dramatic).  To 
talk  about  these  folk — with  the  exception  of  golden- 
voiced  Caruso — in  comparison  with  Emma,  with  Nellie, 
even  with  Lillian,  or  Lehmann  or  Ternina,  or  Calve  is  ab- 
surd. As  for  Jean,  Edouard  (alas  I  dead)  Lassalle,  Plan- 
9on  and  Maurel  (who  lives  here,  a  well-preserved  old  beau 
of  72)  they  have  no  successors.  So  we  take  what  we  get 
— "Movie"  singers,  I  call  them. 

I  am  glad  to  know  you  are  well  (and,  I  could  swear, 
still  a  handsome  woman  1).  Unhappily  I  couldn't  go  to 
hear  Miss  Eames.  I  live  down  here  in  Flatbush,  but  I 
am  in  Philadelphia  3  times  a  week  writing  music  criti- 
cism for  The  Press  over  there.  See  what  the  war  has 
done  to  me.  We  had  settled  for  life  in  Holland,  but 
1 914  drove  us  home;  and  cut  off  absolutely  all  sources  of 
income.  So  I  went  back  "on  the  job," — and  loathe  it. 
I  could  get  on  a  paper  here  but  the  work  would  be  too 


246    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

strenuous.  I  feel  my  years.  On  the  22nd  I  was  in 
Philadelphia  at  the  symphony  concert,  so  please  pardon 
my  seeming  lack  of  courtesy.  When  you  write  Madame 
Gogorza  give  her  my  regards. 

Do  drop  me  a  line  once  in  a  while.     Between  191 3  and 
1918  is  a  long  time!! 
With  regards,  and  best  wishes  for  you  and  yours. 

As  ever  Cordially, 

James  Huneker 


To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjortb 

Westminster  Court:  Apr.  8th/ 18 

My  dear  Frida: 

Be  a  good  girl  and  write  me  your  opinion  of  Galli- 
Curci;  your  technical  opinion  as  an  experienced  and  past 
grand  master  (for  you  are  a  master  and  know  more  than 
the  men  who  should,  most  of  them  call  themselves  "mis- 
tresses") of  the  art  of  true  vocalization.  It  is  not  for 
publication  unless  you  wouldn't  mind  if  I  quoted  a  line 
from  you, — but  if  you  do  object,  remember  I'll  keep 
whatever  you  are  good  enough  to  tell  me  as  secret  as  the 
grave.  Your  allusion  to  G.-C.  in  your  last  letter  whetted 
my  curiosity.  I  only  heard  her  once  and  I  didn't  think 
she  sang  flat  "all  the  time"  Couldn't  the  deviation  from 
pitch  be  the  result  of  faulty  tone-production?  She  is 
musical,  as  musical  as  most  singers  of  her  type.  At 
your  leisure  write  a  few  words  in  confidence.  Enclosed 
will  show  you  how  interested  I  am  in  singing.  Didn't 
Lucy  Gates  study  a  short  time  with  you.  She,  or  her 
manager  says  that  she  is  23  years  old.  Impossible,  if  it's 
the  Gates,  grand-daughter  of  Brigham  Young,  whose 
debut  I  wrote  about  in  The  Sun.     Don't  bother  returning 


TO  HENRY  B.   FULLER  247 

clippings.  Galli  didn't  sing  in  Phila.  last  week;  hence 
the  row.  Anyhow,  let  me  hear  from  you.  100  words 
will  tell  me  your  real  opinion.     As  Ever  Gratefully 

Jim 

To  Henry  B.  Fuller 

Henry  B.  Fuller,  the  novelist,  had  sent  Mr.  Huneker  a  copy  of  his 
latest  book,  "On  the  Stairs." 

Westminster  Court 
My  dear  Henry  Fuller:  April  18/18 

"On  the  Stairs;  or  the  Dilettante  as  Slacker,"  should 
have  been  the  title  of  that  sardonic  masterpiece  of  yours, 
which  only  reached  me  last  Monday,  April  8.  I  read  it 
at  a  sitting,  as  I  do  all  your  books,  when  I  am  lucky 
enough  to  get  hold  of  a  new  one;  which  isn't  often  enough. 
Well?  The  story  reminds  me  in  construction  of  a  mod- 
ernized Stendhal,  or,  a  better  and  closer  [comparison,  of 
Flaubert's  "Bouvard  et  Peuchet."  It  is  also  like  a 
modern  war-cruiser:  compact  of  steel,  steam  and  speed; 
everything  is  stripped  for  action.  And  what  action ! 
I  confess  the  novel,  or  scenario,  left  a  bitter  taste  in  my 
mouth.  Is  the  dilettante,  the  leisurely  lover  of  the  arts, 
so  despicable?  Yes,  when  he  runs  to  seed.  Or  has 
Chicago  gotten  into  your  bones  and  marrow?  "With 
the  Procession"  made  some  aesthetic  concessions.  There 
was  at  least  a  breath  of  beauty  in  its  pages.  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  are  revenging  yourself  for  having  written 
that  beautiful  book  "The  Chevaher."  But,  of  course, 
dilettantism  is  dead,  never  to  be  summoned  from  the 
tomb  by  the  most  hedonistic  master  of  the  future. 
Seven  devils  of  war  and  woe  and  misery  and  cruelty, 
hatred,  murder  and  rapine  have  driven  forth  the  gentle 
arts  from  the  House  of  Life.     Enclosed  may  shock  you. 


248    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

I,  too,  was  a  dilettante,  and  still  write  like  one,  but  I 
love  Debussy,  as  I  love  France,  his  land — next  to  my  own; 
hence  the  waste  of  ink  and  paper  and  words. 

However,  I  don't  write  to  you  to  preach  or  wail.  I 
enjoyed  "On  the  Stairs,"  and  I  wish  you  hadn't  written 
it.  That's  less  of  a  paradox  than  you  believe.  The  old 
Fuller  of  the  "Pensieri"  days  has  gone  forever  and  I 
regret  his  loss.  You  will  pardon  my  frankness  and  pray 
set  it  down  to  the  grumbling  spirit  of  an  old  chap  who 
finds  himself  suddenly  awakened  in  strange  and  unsym- 
pathetic surroundings.  I'm  hopeless,  I  fear.  I  still  be- 
lieve in  art,  and  art  as  a  regenerative  force.  I  note  in 
The  Sun  to-day  that  you  like  Rebecca  West.  So  do  I. 
Did  you  see  her  study  of  "Henry  James"  (Holt)?  It's 
positively^" sassy,"  and  I  admire  "sassiness"  in  a  good- 
looking  girl — which  she  is.  But,  oh !  your  Chicago  folk ! 
They  are  so  true,  so  awful,  that  even  Howells  will  wince. 
I'm/sure  I  did.  In  the  meantime,  I'm  watching  the 
Evolution  of  Henry  B.  Fuller  with  anxious  interest.  To 
what  strange  land  are  you  drifting?  You  have  written 
the  great  Chicago  novel;  and^perhaps — ?     Qui  sait? 

With  thanks,  ^     ,.  ., 

Cordially  j^^^^  Huneker 

To  Alien  March 

Flatbush,  (Amnesia  Co.,)  L.  I.  April  30/18 
Dear  Alden: 

You  are  certainly /the  "Easy  Boss" — and  not  Chester 

S.  Lord.     I'm  obliged  to  you  for  printing  the  story,  which 

I  saw  yesterday.     When  I  see  you  Thursday  next  about 

noon  I'll  tell  you  viva  voca  the  truth  as  far  as  I  know  it — 

for  there  was  a  sheer  lapse  of  memory,  the  first  in  my  life. 

We — John  Huneker,  Harry  Richardson,  Jim  Craven  and  I 


\  TO  ALDEN  MARCH  249 


—had  one  drink  at  the  Club.  Then  I  wrote  till  6:30  p.  m. 
went  to  McGowans  swallowed  a  "rare  cream  oyster  stew" 
and  was  on  the  train  at  6:55.  At  Trenton  I  found  the 
envelope.  I  didn't  curse.  The  matter  was  too  appalling 
for  curses.  It  meant  the  beginnings  of  Amnesia?  I 
wired  on  arrival  9:20  in  N.  Y.  to  city  editor.  If  it  had 
been  a  concert  of  artistic  importance  I  would  have  wired 
a  complete  criticism;  luckily  it  wasn't;  in  fact,  it  was  a 
stupid  affair  for  G.  was  in  horrible  humor.  So  I  merely 
mailed  the  accursed  copy  to  you.  The  joke  is  that  at  the 
end  of  the  concert  Mr.  Waldo  rushed  up  to  me  and  with- 
out waiting  for  an  introduction  asked  the  names  of  the 
3  or  4  encore  pieces.  I  told  him — of  course  (Esprit  de 
Corps)  and  I  also  gave  them  to  Richardson  &  Craven 
later  at  the  club.  Decidedly  they  got  ahead  of  Papa. 
They  all  thought  Gabrilowitsch  played  wonderfully;  there 
at  least  I  fancy  I  got  nearer  to  the  bone  of  truth.  I  have 
discovered  during  my  six  months  sojourn  in  Phila.  that 
nobody  criticizes — praise,  praise,  praise.  It  spoils  both 
artist  and  public  alike,  indiscriminating  praise.  Witness 
the  case  of  Stokowski,  who,  despite  his  talent,  needs, 
positively  cries,  for  drastic  criticism.  (He  will  get  it  next 
season  in  New  York,  where  he  conducts  5  concerts  with 
the  Phila.  orchestra).  However,  all's  well  that  ends  in 
type.  Now,  as  Mrs.  Huneker  goes  over  with  me  to- 
morrow, Wednesday  on  the  3  p.  m.  train,  I  am  sure  to 
send  down  that  Galli-Curci  notice,  if  not  early — for  the 
program  is  long — at  least  in  time  for  Thursday's  paper. 
Please  send  the  tickets  to  the  Art  Club!  We  stop  at  the 
Walton.  I'll  go  down  Thursday  to  see  you.  Enclosed 
Sunday  copy.  Proof  if  possible  Thursday  at  noon.  The 
other  enclosure  is  a  news  item — if  it  hasn't  been  printed. 
Please  Alden  keep  that  atrocious  slip  of  Friday  last  as 


250    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

much  to  yourself  as  possible.     Otherwise — Oh !  the  "  kid- 
ding" !     Skinned  Alive ! 

I  hope  the  tickets  arrived  at  your  office.  Tve  heard 
the  house  is  completely  sold  out.  If  she  doesnt  sing — 
accident  may  occur — wire  me  here;  though  we  shall  go 
over  Wed.  afternoon,  Galli-Curci  or  not.  The  Missus 
wishes  to  look  around  for  a  likely  apartment. 

As  ever, 


Jim 


To  Alden  March 


James  Huneker's  autobiography  "Steeplejack"  was  about  to  be- 
gin its  appearance  in  serial  form  in  The  Philadelphia  Press. 

Westminster  Court 

A  May  20/18 

My  dear  Alden: 

Here  is  next  Sunday's  story,  the  last  of  the  series.  I 
shall  give  you  not  later  than  Monday  27  next,  17,500 
words  of  the  forthcoming  work.  By  Monday  June  3rd, 
10,000  more — 27,500  words  which  will  see  you  through 
June.  Thenceforth  there  will  be  40,000  words  a  month 
for  July,  August  and  September,  in  all  about  140,000 
words.  The  book  is  planned  out  and  I  know  it  will  stand 
that  many,  even  60,000  or  over,  without  padding.  Now 
will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  listen  to  me,  listen  to  an  im- 
portant suggestion,  about  which,  if  you  have  any  editorial 
doubts — and  I  don't  think  you  will  have — I  wish  you 
would  ask  Richard  Beamish  or  Mr.  Magers,  both  being 
practical  newspaper  men.  This  is  the  suggestion,  which 
is  the  only  modification  of  your  original  plan;  it  is, — the 
first  story  must  make  an  impression,  the  more  striking, 
arresting,  then  all  the  better  for  the  success  of  the  series. 
This  first  story  is  ready  (as  are  the  other  15,000  words). 


TO  ALDEN   MARCH  251 

It  is  about  2,500  words  and  should  be  printed  in  toto  to 
make  an  impression.  You  will  say  so  if  you  ever  read 
it  in  manuscript  or  type  (of  course  you  won't,  you  never 
read  a  line  of  mine  yet).  It  presents  the  whole  scheme, 
gets  the  unwieldy  vessel  off  the  "ways,"  in  a  word, 
launches  the  enterprise.  It  is  my  Apologia  for  writing. 
It  is  not  dull  or  didactic.  Speed,  steam,  sass !  Secondly. 
Now  listen.  If  printed  Monday  morning  June  3rd  next 
it  will  have  perhaps  50  or  75  thousand  readers  (don't  get 
mad.  Papa !)  If  it  is  printed  in  all  the  glory  of  a  Sunday 
(June  2nd)  editorial  page  it  will  have  at  least  500,000 
readers  (subscribers  and  collateral).  Isn't  it  then  a  sound 
business  proposition  to  start  off  with  the  superior  adver- 
tising of  a  Sunday,  instead  of  the  cold  mutton  Monday 
morning,  the  day  of  disillusionment  and  headaches ! 
Think  it  over.  Submit  the  idea  to  the  gentlemen  of  your 
editorial  round-table.  Don't  you  see  then  that  you  will 
have  a  batch  of  a  million  or  so  desperate  readers  clamor- 
ing for  the  Monday  issue !  You  can  announce  that  it  is 
to  appear  only  in  the  Sunday  issue  once.  You  say  you 
don't  want  to  boom  the  Sunday  paper  (your  words,  not 
mine — far  be  it  from  me  to  boast)  but  don't  you  think 
the  poor  devil  of  an  author  needs  the  boost  of  the  Sunday 
circulation  and  the  splendid  send-off?  Think  it  over, 
Alden! 

The  series  is  to  have  a  steady  head:  "Avowals  of  a 
Steeplejack"  (when  you  read  the  Apologia  you  will  see 
how  appropriate  is  this  title,  at  once  new  and  with  a  touch 
of  the  fantastic).  George  Moore  10  or  15  years  ago  wrote 
for  Lippincott's  Magazine  a  series  of  critical  articles  that 
he  called:  "Avowals."  They  are  not  in  book  form,  there- 
fore not  copyrighted;  nevertheless,  I  won't  steal  any 
man's  title,  hence  my  own  title.     This  is  to  go !  !  !    My 


252    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

name  is  to  be  signed  James  Gibbons  Huneker.     The  times 

are  dangerous  and  the  Hun  must  be  taken  out  of  my 

patronymic.     Besides  the  Gibbons  will  get  the  Irish  vote. 

Send  me  a  contract  this  week — serial  rights  alone.     Simple 

as  possible — terms  as  arranged,  no  time  limit — of  that 

latter  you  are  the  arbiter,  but  I  think  myself  Nov.  ist 

ought  to  stop  my  personal  vomitings.     A  hundred  per 

week  you  said.    Alden,  the  Lord  bless  you,  but  it  was 

the  Devil  himself  that  put  this  flea  into  your  editorial 

ear.     My  summer  is  lost.     No  music.     No  outings.     Ten 

thousand  words  weekly — i.  e.  2500  for  four  days  weekly. 

And  hell,  and  writer's  cramp,  and  I  can't  typewrite,  I 

can't  dictate.     But  Oh !  what  a  beautiful  flow  of  language 

is  gushing  up  from  my  sub-consciousness,  what  a  dazzling 

rainbow  mist  of  vocables  I 

Please  consider  above  suggestion.     The  moment  I  get 

your  early  answer  I'll  mail  first  article  2500  words.     (No 

subheads  or  chapter  heads,  but  paragraphs.) 

Yours  in  fighting  trim,  . 

^       ^  As  ever 

James 

To  Alden  March 

Westminster  Court 
My  Dear  Alden:  ^^^  ^^/^^ 

I'm  glad  to  hear  from  you.  I  fancied  you  were  out  of 
town  after  noting  that  an  interesting  event  had  occurred 
in  the  March  family;  in  fact  two,  a  real  General  now,  and 
a  marriage  I  You  must  begin  to  feel  mature — and  proud  I 
Herewith  a  signed  agreement  in  my  turn  projorme;  for 
the  series  depends  on  my  industry,  of  course,  but  largely 
on  your  editorial  complaisance.  However,  it  is  well  to 
have  a  clear  statement  &c.     If  you  go  to  the  "front"  let 


TO  ALDEN   MARCH  253 

me  know  in  time.     I  should  like  to  wring  you  by  the 
hand,  and,  incidentally  buy  a  farewell  drink. 

The  memorandum  slip  is  for  services  performed,  dates 
and  subjects  in  Sunday  Press.  A  cheque  in  time  saves 
time!  I  am  delighted  about  the  ist  issue  next  Sunday; 
also  at  the  chance  offered  for  next  season.  My  Missus  is 
in  full  agreement.  We  go  to  Phila.  in  October.  By  ist 
October  you  shall  have,  the  Lord  willing,  about  180,000 
words.  Then  I  can  take  a  vacation,  after  settling  down 
at  Atlantic  City  for  a  few  weeks.  But  till  then  I'll  turn 
out  10,000  words  a  week  (25  of  my  sheets,  400  words  to  the 
page — more  or  less,  usually  more).  Next  Monday,  and 
every  succeeding  Monday  you  may  expect  10,000  words. 
I  write  4  days  a  week,  and  while  the  job  is  appalling  for 
the  difficulties  increase  as  I  near  the  present,  I'll  buckle 
to  it.  Therefore,  by  next  Monday  June  3rd,  you  will 
hold  the  month  of  June  in  your  hands.  I  do  this  so  there 
will  be  no  gaps,  or  delays.  I  have  preferred  to  give  the 
series  a  strong  autobiographical  coloring  at  the  begin- 
ning; thereafter  men  and  events  will  rule,  connected  by 
a  slender  thread  of  autobiography.  The  personal  pro- 
noun is  personally  abhorrent  to  me,  but  it  is  inescapa- 
ble. Thanks  for  the  "subscription" — I'll  have  to  dodge 
Magers —  I  and  for  the  double  set  of  galleys.  I  hope  my 
full  name — J.  G.  H. — will  be  used  throughout — the  Gib- 
bons sounds  good  now-a-days ! — I'm  ashamed  to  offer  my 
suggestions  for  announcement,  yet  I  enclose  a  resume  of 
projected  scheme  to  be  used  at  your  discretion.  Any 
changes  you  see  fit  to  make  in  copy  (omissions,  excuses) 
I  cheerfully  approve;  only  on  one  galley,  the  other  un- 
changed I'll  keep.  Send  me  at  your  leisure  a  half  dozen 
large  reproductions  of  my  mug.  I  have  concluded  not  to 
send  you  any  pictures  &c.     They  will  only  clutter  up  the 


254    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

page,  and  interrupt  the  production  of  copy.  I  have  not 
Jolio-ed  the  copy,  using  instead  plain  numerals:  i,  2,  3,  &c. 
ad  infinitum  and  ad  nauseam).  I  promise  you  there  will 
not  be — and  is  not — anything  offensive  to  good  taste  or 
religious  prejudices  in  the  copy.  But  I  am  frank,  all  the 
same.  The  second  article  beginning  next  Monday  June 
3rd — which  you  have  already,  begins  page  i — and  so  on. 
Ain't  it  a  grand  and  glorious  feeling ! 

Jim. 

To  Granville  Vernon 

Westminster  Court 
^        June  8/18. 

My  dear  Vernon: 

I  read  the  story  last  night — so  did  my  Missus.  The 
probable  reason  it  came  back  is  because  of  its  sentiment 
— a  bit  too  fine  for  these  rude  hustling,  bustling  times. 
And  then  the  analysis  is  wire-drawn  and  that  is  against 
it  in  the  editorial  eye,  which  delights  in  speed,  punch,  etc. 
I  found  the  atmosphere  charming,  the  prose  musical  and 
the  idea  original — possibly  too  original;  only  an  unusual 
man  would  allow  such  a  thing  as  a  child's  portrait  to  in- 
terfere at  such  an  emotional  crisis.  Jack  Lund  or  Bill 
Liverpool  or  some  other  "giant  of  American  fiction" 
would  have  had  the  husband  enter,  a  roaring,  drunken 
clubman.  That  original  (?)  situation  would  be  "under- 
standed  by  the  people."  Your  idea  is  in  the  key  of 
Henry  James — Why  not  try  Robert  Bridges  of  Scribner's 
Magazine?  He  is  an  editor  of  taste;  or  the  only  George 
Jean  Nathan  of  The  Smart  Set.  I've  taken  the  liberty  of 
suggesting  a  few  changes — evidently  clerical  errors.  I 
don't  like  that  word  "immanence"  why  not  "immanent" 
and  change  the  form?    And  isn't  "aureole"  and  "crown" 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  255 

tautological?    Glad  you  let  me  see  the  story.     You  have 
evident  talent.    At  it  again,  my  lad ! 

Cordially, 

James  Huneker 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Harry  J^^^  9/i8 

Thanks  for  your  letter.  I  did  the  cursing  to  save  you 
the  like  sin.  Nothing  you  could  have  said  would  add 
to  my  own  opinion  of  matters.  As  to  Stransky — you 
will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  that  I  heard  oncCy  the  Dante 
Symphony  and  was  agreeably  disappointed.  IVe  heard 
worse  readings  and  performances.  Remember  I  quit  the 
musical  game  Spring  1902,  and  only  went  back  191 7. 
The  oboe  cadenza — a  little  more  than  an  essential  turn 
for  that  instrument — was  in  the  5th  symphony,  as  con- 
ducted by  SeidI,  Steinway  Hall  years  ago.  I  recall  it 
readily  for  I  was  with  Otto  Floersheim.  I  remember  the 
7th  symphony  also — Wagner's  "  Apotheosis  of  the  Dance  " ; 
SeidI  made  the  finale  orgiastic — perhaps  Wagner's  idea, 
for  the  good  Anton,  I  suspect  was  not  an  original  con- 
ducting intellect — as  was  Levi,  Richter,  or  as  is  Nikisch. 
Did  you  know  that  Floersheim  died  in  191 7,  last  Au- 
tumn? Your  defence  of  Wagner  in  this  morning's  Tribune 
was  splendid.  You  might  have  added  that  both  Flotow 
and  Meyerbeer — still  in  the  Met.  0.  H.  repertory  were 
Prussians.  Enclosed  will  tell  you  of  the  awful  job  I'm 
at — 200000  words  in  5  months.  I've  written  38000  thus 
far.  No  respite  till  Oct.  loooo  words  I  write  weekly!! 
I  may  go  to  Phila.  permanently  then.  I  belong  to  a 
good  club,  "The  Art  Club,"  my  surviving  brother  wants 
us  near  him,  the  Press  offers  me  a  living  wage — not  only 


256    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

music  (2  affairs  weekly  that's  all)  but  editorial  writing. 
Van  Anda*  sent  for  me  the  last  two  weeks  of  the  Chicago 
opera  season,  but  there  was  Billy  Chase;  besides  I  didn't 
care  to  keep  the  chair  warm  till  Dick  returns,  and,  then, 
the  Job — phew !  Concerts  and  operas  &c.  I'm  too  old, 
weary,  and  so  I  think  unless  I  win  some  grand  lottery, 
I'll  settle  down  on  a  nice  spot,  go  easy,  revise  my  mem- 
ories for  publication  and  die  where  my  parents  died  and 
in  the  burg  I  w^as  born.  The  return  of  the  native !  It 
comes  to  all — the  Button-molder  at  the  cross-roads  of 
life  I  (You  remember  "Peer  Gynt"?)  I  hope  to  be 
ready.  The  game  has  not  been  worth  the  candle,  but, 
after  all,  it  is  life.  The  only  life  we  shall  ever  know — in 
our  present  estate  of  flesh  and  bone.  The  life  of  the 
spirit — well,  Harry,  I'll  take  Pilsner,  and  let  the  devil 
rage  as  he  will.     He  is  none  of  my  making ! 

With  love  As  Ever  j 

To  Frank  J.  Wilstach 

At  this  time  Mr.  Wilstach  was  compiling  his  "Dictionary  o! 

Similes." 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Frank:  ^9i8 

Thank  you  for  your  pleasing  words;  but  where  did  you 
get  the  notion  that  I  plumed  myself  on  proof-reading? 
Was  I  ever  imbecile  enough  to  brag  of  what  I  can't  do, 
i.  e.  read  proof,  or  write  a  legible  hand?  None  of  my 
books — mosaics,  not  real  books  except  2  or  3 — are  proof- 
read with  care.  I  am  an  abominable  proof  hound,  being 
too  hasty  and  suffering  from  that  mental  and  physical 
(the  same  thing)  nausea  best  described  in  the  scriptures 
— the  dog  that  returneth  to  its  vomit.     I  loathe  what  I 

*  C.  V.  Van  Anda,  managing  editor  of  the  New  York  Timei. 


TO  ALDEN   MARCH 


have  written — truly  disjecta  membra,  dead  fecal  matter, 
of  me — as  Walt  would  say. 

Here  are  a  few  similes  that  may  prove  of  service  to  you. 

George  Moore:  "Esther  Waters"  (revised  edition, 
Brentano,  page  i)  "And  the  lamplight  made  the  curious 
cur\-es  of  a  beautiful  ear  look  like  a  piece  of  illuminated 
porcelain." 

Ibid.  "In  these  moments  all  fear  that  he  would  one 
day  desert  died  away  like  an  ugly  wind."      page  I95> 

Ibid.  "The  thick  hau-  that  used  to  encircle  her  pale 
prominent  temples  like  rich  velvet  looked  now  hke  a 
black  silk  band  frayed  and  whitened  at  the  seam." 

John  Galsworthy:  "The  Dark  Flower"  (p.  14^  "It 
was  so  jolly  to  watch  the  mountains  lying  out  in  this 
early  light  like  huge  beasts." 

There  are  some  more  which,  when  I've  tim.e,  I'll  send 
you.     The  Dekker  is  bully  prose,  pungent  prose. 


Cordiall 


y, 


JlW    HUNEKER 


To  Aldtn  March 

Westminster  Court 
De.\R  AiJ)EN:  June  23/18 

1st.  I've  sent  in  now  59,000  words  (last  Friday)  over 
50,000  of  which  have  been  devoted  to  'Old  Philadelphia.' 
Time  to  call  the  turn.  Therefore  in  the  last  ms.  I  sent 
to  you  a  suggestion  for  the  new  head — sometime  in  Au- 
gust— "Paris  Fortv-  Years  Ago!"  It  goes,  doesn't  it? 
(You  can't  say  'Old  Paris'  fo?  187S). 

2nd.  I  don't  count  the  number  of  words  printed,  but 
last  Friday's  stuff  was  certainly  over  1000  words,  the 
number  agreed  on.  Indeed,  I  think  you  have  exceeded 
that  amount  straight  along.  It  keeps  me  uneasy  as  I 
wish,  hope,  to  keep  ahead  always  one  month. 


258    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

3rd.  The  business  office  has  sent  me  no  cheque  thus 
far  for  the  "Avowals"  series  (the  cheque  several  weeks 
ago  was  for  articles  in  month  of  May)  and  yesterday  two 
(2)  weeks  were  finished.  Ask  Magers  to  send  a  cheque 
for  $200.  so  as  to  keep  accounts  to  date. 

4th.  I  think  it  will  be  politic  to  drop  Germany  out 
of  my  scheme.  My  memories  are  vivid,  but — ?  What 
do  you  think  Mr.  Editor.  Even  the  Germany  of  the 
eighties  would  come  under  the  ban  of  displeasure !  But 
German  music,  art — which  is  for  the  most  part  rotten — 
philosophy,  poetry,  drama — that's  another  matter.  It 
was  all  created  bejore  the  war.  Its  contemporary  Germany 
which  I  left,  Spring  of  19 14,  that  is  the  questionable  part. 
Tell  me  what  to  do,  please !  I  can  save  the  material  for 
the  book  later. 

5th.  As  a  book  possibihty  "Avowals"  has  brought  me 
two  (2)  letters  already — and  only  two  (2)  weeks  stuff  has 
appeared  in  type.  One  is  from  Horace  Ridings  of  J.  B. 
Lippincott,  the  other  from  a  well-known  N.  Y.  publisher 
(not  Scribner,  who  will,  of  course,  get  first  offer).  I'm 
out  for  the  highest  bidder.  Tired  of  writing  for  nothing 
and  no  royalties  to  speak  of.  But  it  is  a  19 19  book — the 
Autumn,  at  that — and  so  there's  no  hurry.  I  fear  July 
and  August,  sultry  depressing  weather.  But  I'm  chained. 
No  looking  back  now.  Only  if  I  stop  a  week — puff !  and 
I'll  run  off  rather  than  go  back  to  the  convict  cell.  So  I 
won't  take  a  single  hohday  till  October. 

6th.  I'm  obliged  for  the  sensational  advertising  as 
evidenced  by  the  Devon  racing  folders,  the  Press  pages 
&c.,  also  by  that  huge  poster,  which  I  put  in  my  bed, 
covered  it  up  to  the  neck  and  with  its  paper  head  on  the 
pillow  startled  my  wife  and  sister  into  hysterical  laughter. 
7th,  Philadelphia  for  the  Fall  looms.     I  must  see  to  an 


TO  ALDEN  MARCH  259 

apartment  (no  W.  Phila.  or  suburban  residence)  also  will 
sign  an  annual  contract — one  year  only — at  terms  under- 
stood, but  August  will  do. 

8th.     Last  but  not  least — how  are  you  old  man? 

As  ever,  t 

'  Jim 

To  Alden  March 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Aii>en:  ^™°'''y"'  ^^  ^-  ^^'^  ^/-S 

I'm  obliged  for  the  quick  response  and  your  letter. 
The  cheque  came  in  the  same  mail.  I  hope  you  will 
enjoy  your  vacation.  You  need  one,  you  deserve  one. 
Of  course  the  various  paragraphs  do  suggest  natural  end- 
ings; hence  the  extra  words  printed.  I  asked  Mr.  White 
to  let  me  know  about  how  many  words  I  am  sending  over 
each  week.  I  go  on  my  old  basis:  400  words  to  the  page; 
25  pages  weekly  equal  10,000  words.  But  I  am  begin- 
ning to  believe  I'm  writing  500  words  to  the  page.  My 
handwriting  owing  to  the  strain  on  my  eyes  is  visibly 
growing  smaller,  and  I  don't  want  to  exceed  175,000  or 
200,000.  In  that  case  I  see  a  week  off  from  writing 
which  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  need  because  my  right  hand 
has  begun  to  shake  and  refuses  work — dead  engine?  or 
pianist's  and  writer's  palsy.  If  it  is  the  horrid  trouble 
I'm  dished  plain.  I  can't  dictate,  I  can't  type.  There- 
fore I  must  either  cut  down  output  or  else  rest  my  hand 
at  intervals.  Playing  the  piano  brings  in  both  sets  of 
muscles,  flexor  and  extensor;  writing  only  extensor;  hence 
the  cramp.  I'm  sorry,  really,  to  bother  you  with  all  my 
petty  troubles.  But  who  in  the  hell  am  I  to  go  to  con- 
fession to  but  Father  March?  (By  the  way  the  priests 
are  beginning  to  write  nice  things.     We  have  the  Irish 


26o    LETTERS  OF  JAMES   GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

vote;  now  for  the  Jewish!)  Who  wrote  that  editorial? 
It  isn't  so,  all  those  nice  things,  but  the  "piece"  was  so 
well  written.  Was  it  Richard?  But  whoever  it  was  I 
ask  you,  please,  to  thank  him.  I'll  buy  when  I  meet 
him.  As  to  the  contract — there  is  time  this  month.  I 
must  give  my  landlord  notice  by  Aug.  ist.  I  haven't 
"cold  feet"  but  after  33  years  here  it  is  a  change  to  make 
for  us.  The  Johnson  affair  is  still  in  doubt.  I'm  not 
counting  on  anything;  then  I  shan't  be  disappointed.  I 
rely  absolutely  on  your  judgment  on  the  Press  matter. 
I  say — 3  years'  contract — perhaps  you  won't  give  me 
more  than  2;  one  year  is  too  little;  3  would  be  better.  If 
you  leave  the  paper  and  go  elsewhere  I'll  follow  you — if 
you  want  me.  And  depend  upon  it,  if  I  do  go  over  in 
October  neither  you,  nor  The  Press  will  complain  of  the 
quality  of  my  work.  But  make  the  contract  iron-clad ! 
Enclosed  read,  then  at  once  put  in  envelope  and  send 
back  without  comment.  I  show  it  to  you  alone,  just  to 
prove  I'm  not  crying  wolf.  It's  the  only  bank  account 
we  have;  or  "stocking"  either.  The  war  knocked  me. 
The  German  experiences  will  keep — for  a  long  time.  I 
had  decided  on  that.  Monday  again  I  heard  more  gos- 
sip about  Press  sale,  this  time  from  a  Phila.  newspaper 
man — no  good,  I  fancy.  I  give  it  to  you  for  what  it  is 
worth.  Copy  will  be  addressed  to  you  as  usual  every 
Saturday. 

^'  Ever  jj^ 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjortb 
My  Dear  Frida:  Westminster  Court:  July  28/18 

Since  May  15  I've  written  125,000  words  on  a  con- 
tract with  The   Philadelphia   Press,   my  Memories,   50 


TO  MME.   FRIDA  ASHFORTH  261 

years  of  them — since  1865  to  1915.  They  are  being  pub- 
lished daily,  they  have  out  3  sheet  posters  over  Phila. 
(I  have  one  8  feet  high;  it's  a  horror)  and  the  contract  calls 
for  250,000  words.  I'm  half  through,  tired  but  feel  over 
the  Top !  Every  word  written — no  dictation  or  type- 
writer, and  my  pen  dipped  in  that  big  cut  glass  ink-stand 
you  gave  me  20  years  ago.  (Out  of  15  books  so  far  written 
14  were  the  children  of  that  Frida  gift!)  I  enclose  the 
first  week's  stuff — also  one  of  last  week.  I'm  telling 
everything;  you  are  in  it.  (I'm  in  New  York,  having 
finished  with  Old  Phila.  &  Paris  40  years  ago,  but  of 
course  it  will  be  November  before  the  long  story  will  have 
ended;  perhaps  later.  In  19 19  the  stuff  may  appear  in 
book  form — 2  big  volumes  with  autograph  letters  from 
everybody  in  the  artistic  musical,  literary  worlds;  from 
Gounod  to  George  Bernard  Shaw^  You  can  fancy  the 
wealth  of  memories  from  1885  to  1915  ! 

So  picture  me  in  pyjamas,  writing  10,000  words  a  week, 
no  more,  no  less !  September  1 8th  next  I  fmish.  A  ter- 
rific job  but  in  these  times  when  it  is  difficult  to  sell 
articles  anywhere  I'm  glad  to  do  that  w^hich  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  do  10  years  ago.  How  are  you?  We 
are  fairly  comfortable  here,  so  near  the  sea  air,  15  minutes 
— but  envy  you  the  peace  and  privacy  of  your  place. 
Just  run  through  the  stuff,  which  has  to  be  garrulous  and 
egotistic,  else  it  w^ouldn't  be  autobiographical,  and  put 
it  in  enclosed  envelope — at  your  leisure. 

With  love  from  both  As  ever  j 


262    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 

Oct.  2,  1 8. 

The  Royal  Palace  Hotel 
My  dear  Senator  Lodge:  Atlantic  City,  N.  J. 

For  fear  enclosed  note  on  George  Cabot  Lodge  might 
reach  you  and  puzzle  you  because  of  its  apparent  casual 
position,  I  send  it  with  an  explanation: — I  am  writing  ray 
recollections  of  50  years  (though  I  am  only  58)  for  The 
Phila.  Press,  of  which  Alden  March,  brother  of  General 
Peyton  C.  March,  is  editor  and  Rodman  Wanamaker  the 
owner.  The  series  began  June  9th,  ends  Nov.  9th.  I 
wrote — not  dictated — 185,000  words  in  15  weeks  with- 
out notes;  all  on  memory — from  the  day  of  Lincoln's 
burial,  1865 — and  my  old  law  student  days  in  company 
with  George  Woodward  Wickersham;  I  was  the  first  law 
student  of  Judge  Henry  Galbraith  Ward,  United  States 
Circuit  Court  of  Appeals — to  the  year  1915.  So  George 
falls  in  proper  perspective  in  my  too  lengthy  narrative. 
Earlier,  in  August,  I  described  his  lovable  personality; 
I  also  took  the  liberty  of  quoting  a  line  from  one  of  your 
letters  to  me  about  George  Sand.  Next  year  the  book, 
or  books,  may  see  the  Hght — now  that  the  war  nears  its 
end  I  You  must  have  had,  my  dear  Senator,  a  strenuous 
summer,  and  I  rejoiced  this  morning  to  see  sturdy  Massa- 
chusetts hold  fast  to  its  colors — convicted  /.  W,  W. 
[Woodrow  Wilson]  from  his  own  mouth,  for  he  it  was  a 
year  ago  who  pointed  out  the  danger  to  State  rights  on 
the  Suffrage  question.  But  the  Prohibition  humbug  has 
won  I  am  sorry  to  see.  Sincerely  yours 

James  Huneker 

P.  S.  I  am  down  here  with  hay-fever  and  nerves  on 
edge  from  too  much  writing.  Nov.  ist  I  join  the  staff — 
editorial— of  The  N.  Y.  Times, 


TO  ROYAL  CORTISSOZ  263 


To  Alden  March 

The  Royal  Palace  Hotel 

Atlantic  City,  N.  J. 

My  "dear  Alden:  0^^-  ^/^^ 

I  write  to  tell  you  that  I  am  particularly  alarmed  at 
the  way  your  make-up  man  is  playing  ducks  and  drakes 
with  my  copy.     There  are  still  30  printing  days  from  to- 
morrow, Monday,  Oct.  7,  to  Sat.,  Nov.  9,  when  our  con- 
tract expires;  but  the  prodigal  manner  in  which  my  words 
are  being  spilled  every  day — sometimes  as  high  as  2000 
a  day — will  soon  end  the  series,  and  then  I'll  have  to 
fight  to  a  finish  to  get  my  remaining  cheques.     Which  is 
an  appalling  prospect.     Can't  you  tell  the  editor  not  to 
hurl  such  gobs  of  copy  at  my  stunned  readers.     Reduce 
speed!     Give  them  500  words  for  two  weeks.     In  re- 
reading the  series  from  June  9  to  date  I  am  surprised  at 
the  generous  allotments  of  space — in  several  instances  as 
high  as  2500  words  at  a  lick.     I've  turned  in  185,000 
words  for  the  135  days  demanded,  so  there's  50,000  words 
to  play  with.     Now  that  we  are  coming  to  the  meat  of 
my  discourse  (Shaw,  etc.)  why  not  be  more  stingy  and 
end  precisely  Nov.  9  in  a  flare  of  fireworks  (and  to  the 
joy  of  the  constant  reader!)     I  also  note  that  a  "prose- 
poem,"  "The  Hall  of  the  Mirrors,"  has  been  omitted. 
O  Philadelphia;  Happy  hunting  ground  of  hysteria  and 
hypocrisy.  As  ever  j 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 

The  Royal  Palace  Hotel 
Atlantic  City,  N.  J. 
My  dear  Royal:  Oct.  13/18 

Your  very  lovely  letter  reached  me  several  days  ago 
and  found  me  in  the  mist  of  much  sneezing— hay  fever 


264    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

(no  influenza  symptoms).  I'm  very  glad  to  see  your  fist 
again.  I  spent  a  forlorn  season  on  trains  between  Phila. 
&  N.  Y.  last  year — till  May — and  then  settled  down  to  a 
job  that  almost  wore  me  out:  185,000  words  in  15  weeks, 
written  with  a  pen,  not  typed  or  dictated;  daily  appearing 
in  Press — Phila.  Harry  Krehbiel  subscribed  and  still 
lives  to  tell  the  tale.  However,  it's  over.  I  breathe. 
And  I  buckle  my  armor  anew  for  a  hard,  horrible  musical 
season.  (I  practised  scales  for  it  last  season  by  writing 
in  Phila.)  and  after  15  years'  absence  the  wheel  has  come 
full  circle  and  I'm  once  more  a  convict,  a  galley-slave  to 
tone.     Abandon  all  hope  ye  who  listen  here ! 

I've  been  wondering  for  a  long  time  how  the  Reid  bi- 
ography was  going.  I  see  Parsons  and  Crone  from  your 
editorial  department*  every  now  and  then  and  they  always 
tell  me  that  you  are  hard  at  it. 

H.  E.  K.  [Henry  E.  Krehbiel]  must  be  back.  I  begin 
work  Oct.  27.  No  grippe  down  here.  Lovely  air.  As 
to  W.  W.  [William  Winter]  you  are  quite  right.  A  genius. 
I'll  amend  that  statement  as  to  his  method.  H.  E.  K. 
also  made  some  judicious  criticism,  but  concerning  other 
matters.  So  did — and  does — Senator  Henry  Cabot 
Lodge,  who  writes  me  often,  busy  as  he  is.  It  will  be  a 
horribly  personal  book,  this  one  (not  till  1919)  and  I  fear 
corns  will  be  trodden  upon. 

I'll  hunt  you  up  as  soon  as  we  shake  down  (still  Flat- 
bush  by  the  Cemeteries)  and  then — Brevoort  for  us. 

With  regards  as  ever, 

James  Huneker. 

*  The  New  York  Tribune. 


TO  BENJAMIN  DE  CASSERES  265 


To  Benjamin  de  Casseres 

Westminster  Court 
Oct.  26/18 
Dear  Ben 

While  at  Atlantic  City — which  you  know  so  well — I 
received  the  enclosed  part  of  a  letter  from  Edgar  Saltus, 
which  I  wish  you  to  keep,  for  like  the  letter  from  R.  de 
Gourmont  it  contains  a  reference  to  yourself.  I  had  taken 
the  liberty  of  telling  him  that  you  contemplated  a  study 
of  him;  hence  the  reply.  "Titan  in  an  inkstand"  isn't 
a  bad  description  of  you;  though  in  my  next  book  you 
will  figure  as  an  "apocalyptic  genius."  I  should  be  proud 
for  at  least  a  day — as  the  French  say — if  I  got  such  an 
ascription  from  Saltus.  Of  course,  as  the  letter  is  private, 
don't  show  it — to  every  one. 

Tomorrow  I  begin  in  The  Times — musical  editor 
thereof.  My  copy  you  will  find  defaced  by  a  split  in- 
finitive which  I  caught  on  the  proof  but  which  reached 
the  composing  room  too  late  for  correction.  And  I 
loathe  split  infinitives.  However,  I  shall  grin  and  bear 
the  break. 

I'm  up  against  an  awful  winter  of  music-making. 
Needs  must  when  the  cash  devil  drives. 

Curious  you  should  have  lived  in  my  old  neighborhood. 
I  left  there  1875,  t>ut  the  house  still  stands  and  looks  as 
it  did  then. 

I  read  your  Sun  copy  with  interest.  Dont  be  too 
flamboyant — my  own  native  vice.  I  find  a  conversa- 
tional tone  in  writing — as  in  telephoning — carries  further 
than  shouting.     (This  for  your  private  delectation !) 

As  ever 

James  Gibbons  Huneker. 


266    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Alden  March 

The  autobiography,  "Steeplejack,"  had  just  completed  its  seri- 
alization. 

Westminster  Court:  (I  came  nearly  writing  "The  Cemetery") 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  (It  thinks  itself  New  York;  it's  not) 

Nov.  10/18 
My  dear  Alden  March: 

Yesterday  The  Press  and  old  Pop  Huneker  came  under 
the  tape  together  after  a  five  months'  hard  run  across 
country.  I  write  now,  with  my  heart  on  my  sleeve,  to 
thank  you  for  your  personal  and  editorial  kindness  to  a 
stranger  in  his  native  town.  You  did  it,  you  with  your 
little  hint  and  club.  And  now  it's  over.  And  I'm  sorry, 
not  alone  because  of  that  weekly  cheque,  but  principally 
because  it  ends  the  pleasantest  connection  in  my  long 
criminal  career  as  an  ink-slinger.  I  miss  more  than  I 
dare  acknowledge  the  weekly  reunion,  our  knees  under  the 
mahogany  at  Dooner's:  the  Big  4 — Richard,  Magers,  and 
you.  But  what  was  I  to  do?  I  put  off  signing  the  lease 
as  long  as  possible;  and  as  you  couldn't  see  your  way  clear 
about  my  going  over  to  P.  this  season — vide,  your  last 
two  letters — I  took  your  hint  and  went  after  the  Job 
offered  me  here  last  Feb.  Am  I  working?  Oh  no — 
wallowing  in  work!  Hart  I  see  daily,  and  Ybarra  and 
Miss  B.  You  are  often  talked  about.  Run  over  and  go 
to  a  classical  concert  with  me  I     Music? 

With  regards     j 


1919 

To  Jules  Bois 

New  York  Times:  January  1919 
My  dear  Mr.  Jules  Bois, 

I  shall  be  glad,  proud  to  receive  any  token  of  yours. 
I  am  busy  writing  music  critiques  for  The  Times  here, 
hence  my  correspondence  is  in  a  wretched  condition. 
Anything  sent  to  my  home  address  (161 8  Beverly  Road, 
Brooklyn)  will  reach  me  soon. 

Two  things  in  your  letter  were  rather  amusing:  ist. 
The  Anatole  France  comparison — Ohe! — ;  2d.  Your 
query  as  to  my  possible  knowledge  of  your  writings.  En- 
core, Ohe  I  Cher  Maitre.  I  have  a  precious  copy  of  your 
"Satanisme'*  given  me  in  1903  par  notre  grand  ami,  le 
feu  Huysmans  with  his  introduction.  Et  la  belle  petite 
"Glatic"  !  j'adore  votre  "Glatic  Van  der  O."  !  Seriously, 
Mr.  Bois,  I  think  "Le  Vaisseau  des  Caresses"  should  be 
translated  into  English,  of  course  modified  to  suit  our 
puritanical  taste  (or,  the  lack  of  taste,  helas  I)  The  novel 
is  unique. 

Please  accept  my  most  distinguished  regards.  I  had 
hoped  to  meet  you  face  to  face  at  the  house  of  our  friend 
John  Quinn  two  years  ago,  but  at  that  time  you  had 
to  go  to  the  hospital.  I  hope  you  have  recovered !  I 
envy  you   California — our   Riviera;   mais   sans   distrac- 

lons.  Sincerely  your  colleague 

James  Huneker 
Ancien  Eleve  au  Conservatoire  de  Musique. 
267 


268    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Dr,  Alexander  Lambert 

-  _  .  N.  Y.  Times  Jan.  21/19 

My  dear  Alexander: 

I  thank  you  and  Mr.  Leibman  for  your  kind  and 
tempting  invitation  to  meet  the  Only  Fritz*  and  both 
Mrs.  Huneker  and  I  regret  our  inability  to  accept  it. 

Friday — (First  night  "La  reine  Fiamette" 

(afternoon — "  Batushka  Gabrilowitz  " 
(morning — write  my  Sunday  article ! 

Le  voild!  mon  cherl 

I'm  not  a  human  but  a  convict  chained  to  the  ink  well. 
Give  my  regards  to  Fritz.  He  is  still  the  King  despite 
all  the  Jacshas,  Mischas,  Toschas,  Patsys  and  Pischas ! 

'        James  Huneker 

To  Jules  Bois 

Westminster  Court 

My  dear  Mr.  Bois,  '^^"-  ^7/19 

Friday,  Jan.  17th,  the  novel  was  received,  and  as  it 
was  one  of  my  rare  lucky  days  I  was  free.  I  read  it 
through  that  day  and  evening.  Yesterday,  Sunday, 
"Nail"  was  received,  delayed  because  of  the  address 
which  the  wet  or  exposure  had  partially  effaced.  I  wish 
to  apologize  for  not  acknowledging  the  MSS  before,  and 
frankly,  I  am  half-crazed  with  work,  and  tonight,  to  add 
to  my  burdens,  another  Opera  Co.  begins  a  5  weeks  en- 
gagement (the  Chicago  Co.  in  "Gismonda"  (Fevrier), 
"Monna  Vanna"  (Leroux),  "Le  Chemineau"  (Leroux), 
etc.).  Merely  to  show  you  the  sort  of  work  I  must  do 
I  enclose  two  days'  critiques — in  one  of  which  I  have 
altered  Flaubert !     So  pardon  my  delay  in  answering  your 

*  Mr.  Fritz  Kreisler. 


TO  JULES  BOIS  269 

always  interesting  and  sympathetic  letters.  I  can't  dic- 
tate or  use  a  type  machine;  hence  my  crabbed  handwrit- 
ing; also  pardon  my  writing  in  English.  I  know  French, 
but  fear  my  grammar;  besides  it  is  better  for  you  to 
read  English.  You  certainly  write  it  very  well.  Now, 
dear  Jules  Bois,  it  will  facilitate  matters  if  you  will 
kindly  answer  several  questions;  then  I  shall  answer 
yours. 

Imprimis:  Is  "The  Splendor  of  Sacrifice"  entirely 
your  own  translation;  if  it  is  you  are  indeed  a  bi- 
linguist. 
Secondo:  When  is  it  to  appear?     I  ask  this  as  I 
need  a  little  time  to  write  a  few  hundred  words 
as  a  prehide — happy  indeed  to  be  associated  with 
your  work  and  name. 
Thirdly:  Was   "Nail"   ever  produced  with  music; 
when?  where?  ...     I  am  anxious  to  know  for  as 
a  poem,  as  an  effective,  dramatic  libretto  "Nail" 
is  splendid.  .  .  .     Good  books  for  operas  are  so 
rare. 
I  like  the  "Splendour"  very  much.     It  is  a  beautiful 
tribute  from  a  French  poet  to  America,  and  I  under- 
stand, appreciate  the  lofty  idealism.     But  it  is  a  little 
trop  couleur  de  rose.     It  will  please  American  readers. 
The  dramatic  episodes  will  prove  effective — relief  for  the 
finer  issues — and  I  must  compliment  you  on  the  superb 
coda — it  calls  for  magnificent  music.     Its  fibre  is  sincere, 
noble,  touching.     (But  I  like  "Glatic"  and  "Nail"  the 
more;  question  de  temperament.) 

I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  making  a  few  corrections  in 
your  typescript — made  them  as  I  read,  and  few  thej^  are 
— I  should  suggest  "beautiful"  instead  of  "handsome" 
for  the  Dante  motto:  "bella"  is  "beautiful";  and  "hand- 


270    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

some"  is  not  precisely  in  the  key  of  "blanc  majeur" — as 
Gautier  would  say — for  Beatrice.  The  word  handsome 
has  other  and  not  spiritual  connotations. 

And  "Dearie" — in  the  letter  from  his  sister.  It  is  not 
a  word  in  the  best  usage,  though  perfectly  reputable. 
(Cocottes  here  always  say  "dearie" — a  phrase  de  metier.) 
Why  not  the  French  "Cheri"?  It  sounds  prettier. 
Shall  I  send  you  back  the  story  with  my  pencilled  changes? 
A  few  inversions  of  the  verb — which  I  find  piquant  and 
would  not  change — and  a  word  here  and  there  that  might 
be  bettered.  That's  all  Let  me  know  and  Madame 
Huneker  will  send  the  Ms.  to  the  post  office.  I  have 
taken  the  hberty  of  sending  you  through  my  publisher 
several  books  of  mine,  not  for  you  to  read,  but  to  glance 
at  the  chapter  heads.  Vieux  jeu  pour  vous  cher  Mon- 
sieur, but  at  the  time  they  were  published  ("Egoists"  in 
1909)  new  for  the  American  pubhc.  You  will  find  the 
name  of  Jules  Bois  in  "Unicorns"  (pp.  293)  in  a  review 
of  Florian  Parmentier's  book. 

My  "Chopin"  is  in  French,  Italian,  German — a  stand- 
ard technical  work;  given  a  chapter  in  1900  by  a  dear  in- 
timate friend  in  "Mercure  de  France";  Anatole  France 
very  much  liked  the  little  etude  on  himself  in  "  Egoists." 
I  dedicated  my  volume  of  short  stories,  "Visionaries,"  to 
Remy  de  Gourmont —  Alas,  gone  from  us.  /  once  saw 
Flaubert,  Paris,  1879,  rue  Saint-Lazare !  Think  of  it, 
cher  maitre,  this  god  in  prose !  No  wonder  I  am  lyrical 
when  I  write  of  him,  "le  seul  vrai  roi  de  ce  siecle"  in 
fiction.  I  also  send  you  "New  Cosmopolis" — which  took 
the  fancy  of  Maurice  Maeterlinck,  because  it  is  New 
York  seen  through  the  eyes  of  a  native — not  very  rose- 
colored  glasses,  yet  the  vues  d' ensembles  may  interest 
you  more  than  my  critiques  rechauffees  on  French  lit- 
erature. 


TO  JULES  BOIS  271 

And  now  I'll  release  you  from  this  inquisition,  and 
this  symphony  of  my  ego.  I  had  read  you  years  before 
you  came  here.  Huysmans  spoke  to  me  of  you  with 
genuine  feeling — because  I  had  written  a  Black  Mass 
story,  he  sent  me  to  your  "Satanisme," — and  at  Baireuth 
in  1 90 1  I  talked  with  Sar  Peladan — also  dead — who  had 
admired  your  prose.  (I  suppose  you  know  his  real  name 
— Cohn?    Assyrian?    Just  plain  Semitic.) 

In  conclusion,  cher  M.  Bois,  I  am  sorry  to  learn  of 
your  sciatica.  That's  a  sad  malady.  I  hope  the  cli- 
mate, the  diet,  will  drive  it  away.  I  am  of  the  Rabe- 
lasian  breed — Toujours  soij !  and  I  leave  America  if  the 
abominable  prohibitionists  get  the  whip  hand.  Paris  I 
France,  ma  patrie  psychique  ! 

With  regards  Sincerely  yours 

James  Huneker 

To  Jules  Bois 

Westminster  Court 

Feb.  11/19 
Dear  Mr.  Jules  Bois, 

I  am  so  busy — !     Pardon  my  brevity. 

Saturday  I  carry  in  the  story  to  X.,  telling  them  I 
shall  write  a  prelude,  '*The  Key  of  B !" 

"The  Splendour"  is  too  big  a  book  to  go  begging.  I 
hope  you  may  pass  through  New  York  sometime  and 
that  Madame  Huneker  and  I  may  meet  you.  What  a 
powwow,  as  the  Indians  say,  that  meeting  will  be !  What 
memories  we  share  in  common.  And  if  there  is  a  Ma- 
dame Bois — tant  mieux !  Your  allusion  to  "I'autre  race" 
is  not  based  on  fact.  Not  a  drop  of  Teutonic  in  the 
Hunekers,  who  settled  in  Philadelphia  in  1700.  Origin, 
Magyar,  Buda-pesth,    C'est  a  dire,  Asiatic,  or,  Mongo- 


272    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

lian.  But  no  German;  although  I  agree  with  dear  old 
Remy  de  Gourmont  who  wrote  in  1915  that  Bach  and 
Beethoven,  Goethe,  Heine,  Schopenhauer,  Nietzsche  were 
names  that  would  be  ever  dear  to  the  world !  Yet  I 
fancy  you  are  right — the  world  has  changed.  Egoism  as 
a  system  of  thought  is  dead.  The  Ego  is  dead !  Long 
live  the  ego !  (in  a  new  masque).  Jules  de  Gautier  wrote 
me  last  December  (191 8)  in  the  same  mood.  Things 
can't  go  on  as  they  are  going;  else  ruin  of  civilization. 
"Without  vision  people  perish."  If  I  send  you  a  clip- 
ping from  The  Times,  it  is  because  it  may  interest  you  to 
know  the  reactions  of  French  culture  '*sous  Toeil  des 
barbares !" 

Accept  my  friendship,  dear  Jules  Bois.  You  are  a 
great  artist — I  am  only  a  recorder  of  other  men's  work — 

Avec  reconnaissance 

James  Huneker 

To  Jules  Bois 

Westminster  Court 

Sunday  February  16/19 

My  dear  Mr.  Bois 

Everything  you  sent  me  arrived.  I  thank  you.  I 
thank  you  for  your  too  kind  letter  concerning  my  critical 
work.  Above  all  I  thank  you  for  the  books  containing 
the  charming  inscriptions.  Is  it  any  wonder  one  would 
love  the  French?  (Even  the  Germans  secretly  admire 
the  exquisite  tact  and  temperament  of  your  race.)  '*The 
Splendour  of  Sacrifice"  is  in  hand.  I  have  told  the 
people  all  that  I  know  of  the  poet,  philosopher,  novelist, 
dramatist,  and  patriotic  idealist,  Mr.  Jules  Bois.  Also 
that  I  have  had  the  presumption  to  offer  to  write  an 
Appreciation  to  your  fiction.     Voila  tout. 


TO  JULES  BOIS  273 

I  have  asked  Scrfbners  to  send  you  two  of  my  books, 
"Melomaniacs,"  purely  musical  fiction;  and  "Vision- 
aries," both  written  25  years  ago.  When  you  have  a 
moment  pour  lire  au  bain  look  at  *'The  Eighth  Deadly 
Sin,"  which  Huysmans  liked  very  much;  "The  Purse  of 
Aholibah"  (Paris  Boulevard)  of  which  De  Gourmont 
wrote,  and  "The  Third  Kingdom,"  which  Anatole  France 
praised  (possibly  because  it  is  tres  Anatolian !)  But  I 
have  outhved  those  ideas.  In  "Melomaniacs"  "The 
Lord's  Prayer  in  B"  has  been  translated  into  4  languages 
— Russian  and  Bohemian  as  well  as  French  and  German. 
In  French  it  is  called  "Le  Pater  en  Si"  and  Octave  Mir- 
beau  had  the  notion  that  I  got  my  tema  from  his  "Jardin 
des  Supphces."  But  I  sent  him  a  copy  of  The  Musical 
Courier  of  New  York,  dated  March  loth  1896,  contain- 
ing the  story  and  his  "Jardin"  did  not  appear  till  1900. 
(Entre  nous  Cher  Maitre,  c'est  un  animal  superbe,  mais 
feroce.) 

Pardon  this  digression  about  my  little  sketches,  which 
both  Maeterhnck  and  De  Gourmont  admired.  In  Amer- 
ica— rien  !  mais  rien  !  Immoral !  because  the  subjects  are 
non-American.  And  yet  you  find  me  "tres  Yankee"  as 
Jules  Laforgue  would  say.     Perhaps  I  am. 

In  the  meantime  do  get  well  and  strong  in  the  Italian 
sunhght  of  California ! 

Maintenant  pour  la  Prohibition  ! 

Sincerely 

Et  tout  a  vous 

James  Huneker 


274    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Mme.  Emily  Barili 

N.  Y.  Times 
March  23/19 
My  dear  Emily  Barili: 

I  felt  my  eyes  wet  when  I  read  your  lovely  letter  for 
it  brought  back  1877  when  you  and  dear  old  Alfredo — 
he  will  always  be  young  to  me — used  to  walk  down  Chest- 
nut St.  a  newly  married  couple,  and  drop  in  at  Dutton's 
piano  warerooms  corner  13th  St.  where  Wanamaker's 
now  is.  Oceans  of  memories  !  Alfredo  was  always  good 
to  me,  and  he  predicted  that  I  would  never  make  a  pianist. 
It  has  proved  true.  We  are  well.  I  am  so  glad  for 
the  news  of  the  girls.  I  have  their  pictures  you  sent 
me;  also  glad  to  hear  of  your  artistic  activities  and 
that  Alfredo  is  still  an  idealist  in  art.  Bully  !  It  doesn't 
pay,  dear  friend,  but  the  spiritual  satisfaction  is  better 
than  dollars  and  cents.  You  really  should  be  happy  that 
everything  is  so  prosperous  and  that  you  still  have  your 
dear  ones  with  you  and  the  grandchildren  too.  I  only 
wish  I  had  a  dozen  kids !  I  hear  Armand  is  dead,  but 
I  never  hear  of  Henry  Barili.  Is  he  in  Phila.  ?  The  rea- 
son I  ask  is  that  last  year  I  went  over  there  twice  a  week 
to  write  music-criticism  for  The  Phila.  Press.  I  never 
could  find  out  if  Henry  lived  there.  What  do  you  think 
I  did?  For  5  months,  and  daily — June  9th  to  Nov.  9th, 
1 91 8 — I  wrote  my  memoirs  for  The  Press;  they  covered 
50  years,  from  the  night  Carlotta  Patti  sang  Queen  of 
the  Night — Astraframenta — in  "Magic  Flute,"  at  the 
old  Academy  of  Music  on  Broad  Street,  1869,  down  to 
date.  Such  a  galaxy  of  names !  Alfredo  is  in  it.  And 
Ettore,  and  I  told  who  was  the  real  teacher  of  Aunt 
Adehna — I  will  call  her  "Aunt,"  thanks  to  Alfred.  When 
I  saw  her  last  in  London  I  spoke  of  Alfred  and  his  father, 


TO  ROYAL  CORTISSOZ  275 

and  Frida  Ashforth  and  the  old  days  on  West  i  ith  Street 
here  in  the  fifties  and  sixties  of  the  past  century.  She 
was  so  pleased.  She  told  me  she  was  born  at  Barcelona, 
Spain,  1843;  ^oi  Madrid.  Do  ask  Alfredo  if  this  is  right. 
I  want  to  know  in  case  she  dies.  Depend  upon  it  I'll 
set  matters  right.  On  my  desk,  now,  is  a  picture  Frida 
Ashforth  gave  me  that  Aunt  Adelina  gave  her — as  Lucia, 
the  night  of  her  debut,  here,  in  1859.  It  is  very  sweet. 
When  my  recollections  appear  in  book  form  next  October 
ril  have  that  picture  in  the  book.  And  I'll  send  it  to 
you.  There's  lots  about  old  Philadelphia — 1865- 1885. 
I  ran  away  in  1878.  Alfred  came  to  the  old  Penna. 
R.  R.  Station  at  31st  and  Market.  He  was  very  kind. 
I've  been  re-married  since  1899,  just  20  years,  to  an 
American  girl — now  white-haired — and  am  contented 
(I  hope  she  is !)  Of  course,  dear  Emily — les  femmes 
ont  tou jours  raisoni  Perche?  la  bella  ragazzina!  Now 
do  give  my  love  to  my  old  pal  and  consider  your  hand 
kissed !  And  at  your  leisure  tell  me  of  the  Barcelona 
birthplace.  Adelina  may  have  erred.  The  biographies 
all  say  Madrid.  With  love  and  best  wishes  in  which 
mia  cara  sposa  joins,  I  am  as  ever  your  friend 

James  Huneker     (Jim  toujours  !) 

Excuse  my  shaky  WTiting.     I  do  so  much  of  it. 

To  Royal  Cortissoz 

Westminster  Court 

My  dear  Royal:  March  30/19 

Every  day  requests  from  girls  and,  no  doubt,  matrons 
reach  me  begging  for  names  of  good  vocal  teachers  in 
N.  Y.  Of  course,  I  can't  answer  them,  but  if  I  did  I 
should  quote  the  advice  of  Punch  to  those  who  contem- 


276    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS   HUNEKER 

plate  matrimony:  "Don't  I"  New  York  is  the  last  place 
for  a  girl  with  a  voice — good,  bad  or  indifferent — and  if 
she  happens  to  be  pretty,  then  all  the  worse.  If,  however, 
she  has  relatives,  plenty  of  money,  patience — then,  per- 
haps, she  might  make  the  experiment  without  the  inevi- 
table disillusionments,  bitter  deceptions,  sad  endings.  I 
say  "perhaps"  for  heart  burnings  are  sure  to  result  in 
this  hell's  kitchen  of  music.  The  enclosed,  seriously 
meant,  despite  its  strain  of  levity,  hits  off  my  belief  on 
the  subject.  A  beautiful  voice  is  no  guarantee  of  suc- 
cess— and  as  for  teachers — phew ! 

Thanks  for  your  sympathetic  words.  /  read  you  daily 
and  Sunday  and  was  glad  to  read  today  on  Lemordant. 
He's  simply  bully.  I  saw  Willard  Metcalf  the  other  day 
at  a  concert.  But  I  see  damn  few  pictures  now-a-days. 
My  only  excuse  for  my  lovely  handwriting  is  that  it  is 
not  so  awful  as  yours.  Royal !  But  then  I  can't  dictate 
or  type  and  I  use  a  pen  for  every  word  I  scrawl.  Pity 
the  penman — and  the  proofreader.       .     p 

Jim 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjortb 

Westminster  Court:  April  10/19 
My  Dear  Frida: 

I  arrived  from  Phila.  early  this  morning — 3.30  A.  M. 

on  the  operatic  special  and  went  to  bed  in  a  bad  humor 

— the  futility  of  travelling  200  miles  in  an  afternoon  and 

evening  to  hear  that  droning  "Samson  et  Delila" ! — and 

at  8  A.  M.  I  was  too  nervous  to  sleep,  arose,  drank  a  cup 

of  tea,  and  still  was  in  a  bad  humor.     Then  the  post 

brought  your  letter  and  my  irritability  vanished.     No 

wonder!  .  You  are  royally  responsive  to  my  request  and 

I  am  your  debtor — as  I  have  been  for  30  years  in  matters 


TO  BENJAMIN  ROEDER  277 

vocal.  Of  course,  you  know,  you  know  it  all,  don't 
patter  polite  phrases  about  my  ignorance.  Your  letter 
proves  my  opinion.  With  a  few  words  it  sums  up  the 
Galli-Curci  complete.  All  obscure  technical  points  are 
clear  now.  I  thank  you.  You  are  a  dear,  as  well  as  a 
good  girl.  What  you  say  about  "Brains,  brains,  brains" 
should  be  framed  and  hung  in  every  singing  teacher's 
studio;  also  in  every  critic's  memory.  And  Lucy  Gates! 
I  thought  my  memory  didn't  fail  me.  As  soon  as  the 
Phila.  job  is  through,  early  in  May,  we  shall  pay  Frida 
Ashforth  a  formal  visit.  If  I  write  of  Galli  I  shall  most 
certainly  quote  you,  even  if  briefly.  It's  all  nonsense 
for  you  to  hide  your  light  under  a  bushel  considering  the 
magnitude  of  the  blaze  and  its  persistent  brilliancy 
through  so  many  busy  years.  Again  thanks,  Frida.  I 
humbly  sign  myself  a  contemporary. 

As  Ever  j,^ 

To  Benjamin  Roeder 

Mr.  Roeder  was  associated  with  David  Belasco,  the  theatrical 
producer,  who  had  recently  put  on  Edward  Knobloch's  play,  "Tiger ! 
Tiger  1'* 

Westminster  Court: 
My  dear  Ben:  April  11/19 

Olive  Fremstad  and  my  Missus,  accompanied,  of  course, 
by  Papa  (who  hasn't  seen  "Tiger"  yet — you  understand !) 
would  like  to  impose  on  the  courtesy  of  the  management 
for  Thursday  matinee  seats — next  Thursday,  April  17th. 
Will  it  be  asking  too  much?  If  not  send  me  three  (3) 
seats  down  here  and  the  dear  old  girls  will  call  you 
Blessed !  (or  leave  them  at  the  box  ofifice).  And  I  know 
they  would  like  to  see  you  after  or  during  the  entr'actes. 


278    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Olive  is  a  great  girl.  (I  don't  mind  confessing  to  you  as 
a  man  and  a  brother  that  those  forget-me-not  blue  eyes 
of  Frances  the  Star  made  a  deep  wound  in  my  cynical 
old  heart.  She  is  actually  prettier  and  sweeter  off  the 
stage  than  on;  and  that's  saying  a  lot.)  Olive,  too,  fell 
in  love  with  her,  and  I'm  sure  my  Jozia  will  follow  suit. 
The  Missus  hasn't  seen  the  play  yet.  (Don't  be  too 
shocked  or  surprised,  Benjamin,  mon  fils !)  Hoping  I 
don't  sit  too  heavily  on  your  native  amiability,  I  am, 

as  ever, 
(James  the  Gibbons  Goi  !)  Jim  the  Penman 

To  Mme,  Frida  Asbjorth 

Westminster  Court: 

My  Dear  Frida:  ^P"'  '"^'^ 

The  opera  circus  having  left  town — Deo  gratias! — I 
can  at  last  draw  a  long  breath  of  relief — above  all,  I  can 
look  at  my  neglected  correspondence  and  shudder.  I  do 
shudder  when  I  think  of  the  letters  unanswered  you  have 
so  kindly  sent  me,  full  of  loving  words.  I  don't  forget 
them,  my  dear,  but  when  your  pen-hand  refuses  to  work, 
because  of  crumpled  weary  fingers — then  I  can  only 
apologize.  Years  ago  I  should  have  dictated  or  learned 
to  use  a  typewriter.  I'm  too  old  now  to  begin;  besides, 
I  hate  the  noisy  clanking  machines  which  drive  ideas  out 
of  my  head  and  hurt  my  poor  piano  touch.  To  a  man  I 
should  never  be  able  to  dictate,  and  to  a  girl — oh  hell ! 
the  girls  are  still  too  tempting.  Hence  my  shabby  script. 
We  are  going  in  some  noon  next  March  to  say  "  how  d'ye 
do!"  before  you  go  to  the  country.  I  am  bringing  out 
only  2  new  books  next  autumn,  and  am  under  contract 
to  write  a  novel  this  Summer.     No  money  in  it  at  all;  only 


TO  H.   E.   KREHBIEL  279 

a  plain  living;  but  I'm  content;  anything  away  from  the 
musical  **StrudeI."  We  hope  you  are  well.  You  are 
certainly  full  of  bounce.     Love  from  both  as  ever, 

Jim 

To  H.  E.  Krehbiel 

Westminster  Court 
Dear  Harry:  May  6/19 

This  is  a  hospital.  Surgeons,  nurses.  Diet.  I  have 
reached,  endlich,  that  gate  upon  the  lintel  of  which  are  in- 
scribed the  words  of  Goethe:  "Entbehren  sollst  du;  sollst 
entbehren  !"  I  became  a  prohibitionist  over  night  at  the 
mandate  of  the  doctor.  Nevermore  shall  I  touch  beer 
or  wine.  Luckily  I've  not  touched  spirits  since  1890  so 
the  modulation  from  B(eer)  to  D(ry)  was  easy.  I'm  on 
a  milk  diet  and  I  confess  I've  not  missed  alcohol.  Not 
difficult  to  understand  when  one  remembers  the  insipid 
slop  called  beer  and  sold  over  the  bars.  My  trouble 
dates  back  10  years.  How  I  suffered.  My  God!  The 
human  bladder  is  a  most  exquisite  instrument  of  torture, 
more  exquisite  even  than  the  pianoforte  with  Serge 
Prokofieff  at  the  keyboard.  However  my  general  health 
is  splendid,  appetite  wolfish,  cigar  smoking  beyond  the 
restrictions  of  my  medical  man.  I  only  wish  I  could  say 
the  same  for  my  dear  old  girl  who  is  far  from  robust. 

Now  as  to  your  exceptions.  Unless  you  can  give  chap- 
ter and  verse  you  will  pull  down  a  hornet's  nest  about 
your  ears  if  you  say  Eli  is  a  Hebrew  folksong.  It  is  not. 
It  is  the  composition  of  Sandler,  although  it  is  in  Hebra- 
ische  legendenton — you  must  show  those  people  as  they 
have  proved  their  case  up  to  the  hilt.  The  American 
Jewish  News  gives  date.  Sandler  is  not  "my  hero."  I 
never  saw  the  man.     But  he  can  produce  the  goods. 


28o    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Better  be  careful  if  you  intend  contradicting  him.  As 
for  Newman  and  Lamb — their  blood  is  no  surmise,  but  a 
matter  of  history.  The  Cardinal's  grandfather  was 
Jakob  Newman,  Jewish  banker,  Amsterdam,  Holland. 
Lamb,  whose  profile  is  Jewish,  had  acknowledgedly  Jew- 
ish blood  in  his  veins,  only  a  drop,  but  enough  to  give 
Tommy  Carlyle  a  handle  for  abuse  and  depreciation. 
You  will  find  the  story  in  the  Hfe  of  Irving.  But  their 
literary  style  would  have  been  just  the  same,  Jew  or  no 
Jew.  Irony  is  a  prerogative  of  no  particular  race.  Rob- 
ert Browning  you  remember — Breaning — looked  Jewish, 
more  Jewish  than  Edward  VII  who  was  a  Seligmann  or 
a  Meyer  as  far  as  his  face  went.  Yet  Browning  was  pure 
Gentile.  Thanks,  Harry,  for  your  solicitude;  we  appre- 
ciate it.  Regards  from  both  to  Mrs.  Krehbiel  and  to 
you.  (How  is  that  thrice  charming  Mrs.  Hoff  ?)  I  have 
a  hell  of  a  summer  ahead  of  me. 

Good  luck  r 

To  Mme.  Frida  Ashjorth 

The  novel  refers  to  "Painted  Veils,"  privately  published  in  1920. 
The  volume  of  mixed  essays  was  published  in  1920  under  the  title 
"Bedouins." 

Westminster  Court: 

My  Dear  Frida  May  31/19 

Jozia  read  your  letter  and  she  too  had  a  little  cry. 
She  loves  you  as  much  as  I  do  and  fully  appreciates,  as 
I  do,  your  immediate  offer  of  friendship.  But  my  dear 
girl  it  won't  be  necessary.  I'll  go  the  discard  first.  As 
you  know,  I'm  proud — not  too  proud — and  have  always 
played  off  my  own  part.  But  a  million  kisses  for  your 
response  to  our  bit  of  misfortune;  sickness  is  always  that. 
We  hope  you  will  have  a  long  happy  summer.     Mary 


TO  BENJAMIN   DE  CASSERES  281 

Ellis  is  lucky  to  be  near  you.  She  will  profit  if  she  is  as 
clever  and  talented  as  I  think  she  is.  Jozia  is  slowly 
bettering.  She  sits  up  in  bed,  and,  perhaps,  next  week 
may  sit  in  a  chair  at  the  window  and  look  at  the  lovely 
green  trees  for  a  few  hours  daily.  The  chief  thing  is  that 
she  is  out  of  danger,  and  pain,  though  bored  because  of 
her  enforced  inactivity. 

I  am  on  diet,  sitting  jauntily  on  the  water-wagon.  I 
no  longer  fear  prohibition  though  I  heartily  detest  the 
spirit  that  enforces  it.  America's  Soul,  Freedom  is  a 
joke — I  mean  personal  freedom.  Tobacco  next !  Soon  we 
shall  be  enforced  to  import  our  children.  Hypocrites ! 
Grafters !  I  stay  here  all  Summer  as  I  must  write  a 
Sunday  article,  as  usual  for  The  Times.  I  hope  to  make 
it  suitable  for  the  hot  weather.  Then,  too,  I  must  read 
printed  proof  of  my  new  big  2  volumes  of  "Memoirs,'* 
copiously  illustrated,  which  appear  Oct  ist.  You  are  in 
the  recollections,  in  fact,  the  book  may  appeal  to  you  be- 
cause it  covers  from  1865  to  191 7!  Such  writing,  Quoi! 
And,  last,  but  not  least,  I  begin  my  first  novel  which  is 
booked  for  Spring  1920.  Also  hot  Stuff.  Scribners  bring 
out  my  volume  of  mked  essays  entitled  "Mary  Garden" 
(illustrated)  on  Feb  ist,  1920.  So  I'll  not  have  much 
time  for  play.  If  only  my  eyes  hold  out — knock  wood ! 
Au  revoir,  Frida  dear.  We  hope  to  see  you  next  autumn 
surely.     With  love  from  both  j 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Ben  *^^^^  S/^9 

I  am  glad  to  read  your  letter,  especially  as  I  have 
been  indoors  for  4  long  weeks,  not  only  ill,  but  with  my 


282    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

poor  wife  near  death's  door.  Hopital  d  deux !  in  my 
apartment.  Two  surgical  operations  in  one  week — and 
both  without  anaesthetics !  I  am  on  the  water-wagon 
permanently.  Also  buttermilk  and  bananas,  ad  infinitum, 
ad  nauseam.  I  feel  better  without  the  vile  beer  and  ale 
of  N.  Y.  but  I  am  as  ardent  an  anti-prohibitionist  as  ever. 
The  Missus  grows  stronger.  I  read  proof  of  my  new  2 
vols,  book  for  Oct.  I  also  loathe  types,  writing,  reading, 
above  all,  music.  I  envied  you  your  vacation  at  Atlantic 
— your  post  cards  evoked  memories;  you  must  have  been 
near  the  Royal  Palace  when  my  first  air-pilot  fell  and  was 
killed  several  Saturdays  ago,  poor  young  Beryl  Kendrick. 
He  fell  on  the  sandbar  opposite  the  hotel.  I  often  flew 
with  him. 

I  don't  know  who  translated  the  B.  poems.*  I  sha'n't 
read  them — this,  of  course,  entre  nous.  I  don't  believe 
B.  can  be  translated;  that  is,  the  poems.  Thanks  for  my 
review.  The  little  study  may  be  of  interest  to  those 
who  don't  know  the  poet.  You  do.  I  read  all  your  re- 
views.    Good  luck!  . 

As  ever, 


Jim 


To  T.  R.  Smith 


Westminster  Court; 

Dear  Tom:  ^'^'"^  "^'^ 

For  some  reason  the  sale  of  books  dealing  with  retired 
or  defunct  singers  has  been  limited;  even  the  life  of  Liszt 
goes  better.  In  the  case  of  Aunt  Adelinaf  the  romantic 
marriage,  &c.,  may  interest  a  limited  musical  public  after 
her  death,  most  certainly  not  now.  The  last  I  heard 
from  her  was  favorable;  she  may  live  to  lOO.    Her  nephew, 

*  PoemB  of  Baudelaire.  t  Adelina  Patti. 


TO  JULES   BOIS  283 

Alfredo  Barili,  my  former  piano  master  has  nothing  but 
favorable  news  of  her  health.  She  is  a  phoenix.  I'm 
torry  I  can't  get  over  to  luncheon.  My  Tuesday  trip 
weekly  is  the  limit.     I'm  too  horribly  busy. 

Jules  Bois  wrote  a  novel,  an  "immoral"  one,  so  called, 
and  it  sold  to  10,000  copies  in  Paris,  during  1908.  I 
have  it.  It's  a  corker  and  ought  to  be  translated.  It  is 
Zola-esque  and  entitled  "Le  Vaisseau  des  Caresses."  I 
honestly  believe  him  to  be  rather  ashamed  of  a  capital 
story — action  takes  place  on  a  big  steamer  in  the  oriental 
service.  Hot  stuff  for  such  a  poet  and  idealist.  Perhaps 
Liveright*  would  Hke  to  see  my  copy.  One  chapter  is 
risky,  but  I  think  the  book  could  be  translated  with 
a  few  discreet  suppressions.  Whether  the  author  of 
"Splendour  of  Sacrifice"  would  care  to  pose  as  a  Pari- 
sian best-seller  I  can't  say.  He  might  be  persuaded — 
you  know  $  In  hoc  signo  vinces ! 

Shall  I  fetch  the  novel  over  to  H.  L.  [Horace  Liveright]  ? 

Sincerely  as  ever  j 

P.S.  Yes — working  like  a  beaver;  the  dam  has  been 
built,  (with  many  damns);  remains — 100,000  words! 

To  Jules  Bois 

Westminster  Court 
MoN  Cher  Maitre:  Aug.  8/19 

How  shall  I  sufficiently  thank  you  for  your  extraordi- 
nary translations  and  amiability  in  my  behalf!  We  are, 
thank  you  for  your  interest,  both  better.  Madame  Hun- 
eker  rides  daily  in  her  sister's  motor-car  and  bathes  in 
the  Atlantic  Ocean,  which  is  only  15  minutes  away  from 
here.     She  asks  me  to  express  to  you  her  gratitude  be- 

*  Horace  Liveright,  head  of  the  publishing  house  of  Boni  &  Liveright. 


284    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

cause  of  your  solicitude.  I  do  so.  As  for  me,  I'm  a 
mere  pen  chained  to  an  ink  well.  I  couldn't  write.  I 
have  written  no  one.  I'm  worn  out  and  my  hand  is 
lame.  Why?  Because  I'm  reading  2  gobs  of  proof 
(galleys  and  page  proof)  of  my  forthcoming  book — 2  big 
volumes  of  souvenirs  from  1865-19 17.  They  have  ap- 
peared in  serial  form,  daily  in  the  columns  of  the  Phila- 
delphia Press  for  5  months,  191 8.  Scribner  brings  them 
out  in  book  form  Oct.  1919.  That's  one  terrible  job. 
The  other  is — I'm  writing  100,000  words,  fiction,  for 
publication  Oct.  1920.  I've  finished  50,000  thus  far. 
It's  awful  for  I'm  not  well  (diabetes?)  and  the  weather  is 
depressing.  Allons — courage  Jacques  le  Scribe  (Jim  the 
Penman !)  And,  then,  too,  my  Sunday  Times  article. 
No,  I  won't  apologize  for  not  writing,  but  I  freely  apolo- 
gize, mon  cher  Jules  Bois,  for  my  rudeness,  for  the  ego- 
tism that  keeps  me  from  sooner  acknowledging  your 
lovely  attitude  toward  my  insignificant  journahsm. 

I'm  very  glad,  we  are  very  glad  that  your  tormenting 
pains  are  ceasing.  But  I  fear  Paris  for  you.  Friends, 
newspaper  correspondents  tell  me  conditions  are  shock- 
ing; above  all,  Paris  is  very  high-priced — food,  wine, 
lodgings,  clothes;  all  the  other  necessities  of  life.  I  am 
interested  myself  as  my  editor  wishes  me  to  go  over  in 
October  next  to  France  to  write  a  series  of  articles  for 
The  Times.  I  don't  fancy  the  idea,  but  I  must  obey 
orders.  The  regular  music  critic  has  returned  from  the 
army.     Nous  verrons. 

Don't  you  like  "The  Third  Kingdom"  well  enough  to 
include  it  in  your  translations?  And  "The  Mock  Sun" 
— both  are  in  "Visionaries."  "The  Mock  Sun"  is  really 
a  portrait  of  notre  ami  Maurice  M.  and  Georgette — in 
the  old  days.     It — the  story — is  real.     "The  Quest  of 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  285 

the  Elusive'*  is  intended  for  poor,  old,  Leschetizky,  much- 
married  Theodor;  also  a  satire  on  the  American  girl  who 
must  go  to  Germany  or  Vienna  to  study  music;  for  that 
matter,  in  "The  Mock  Sun" — Princesse  Mathilde? — the 
same  motif  of  the  Yankee  girl  who  goes  abroad  to  Paris 
to  indulge  in  false  hero-worship.  But  you  know  the 
type  I 

Let  us  hope.  I  am  fond  of  "Le  Vaisseau  des  Caresses" 
and  "Glatic"!  If  you  care  I'll  send  you  the  Times 
articles  I  missed.  Pray,  pray  pardon  my  seeming  rude- 
ness.    I'm  worn  thin  from  the  pressure  of  work. 

Sincerely  ,  tt 

•^  James  Huneker 

Postcard  to  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Dear  Hal  :  ^"P-  ^°'  ^-  ^-  ^'^*"'''  '»'» 

Beginning  next  Sunday  Oct.  5,  with  The  N.  Y.  World 
instead  of  Times  (regular  critic  has  returned)  Off  to  At- 
lantic City  next  Friday  for  a  month.  Royal  Palace 
Hotel.  Only  Sundays  in  Oct.  for  specials;  in  Nov.  begin 
grand  daily  &c.  Finished  in  a  burst  of  spleen  100,000 
words  novel  this  Summer.  A  horror;  but  might  run 
for  3  mos.  in  S.  S.  without  police  interference.    Greet- 

■"8=-  Jim 

To  John  Quinn 

Dear  John :  The  Fall  of  1919  (?) 

I  leave  The  N.  Y.  Times  after  Sunday  Sept.  28th — next 
Aldrich  returns.  They  wanted  me  to  go  to  Germany 
and  Austria,  but  I  shan't.  Imprimis:  conditions  la  bas 
are  awful;  Secondo :  I've  a  big  offer  here  on  a  bigger  and 
better  paper.     Tertio :  I've  the  proof  of  my  Mary  Garden 


286    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

book  which  appears  Feb.  ist,  1920.  Lastly :  Tve  finished 
a  novel — my  first  fiction,  100,000  words  and  is  in  the 
typist's  hands;  that  is  slated  for  Oct.  1920.  Yes,  I've 
read  "The  Valley  &c."  and  liked  it;  also  "The  Moon  & 
Sixpence."  Somerset  sent  me  a  copy.  It's  poor,  thin 
stuff,  and  Gauguin  &  John  are  burlesqued.  As  I  wrote 
to  him — a  man  of  40  doesn't  begin  to  paint  like  a  genius 
over  night.  Such  silly  psychology.  But  I  do  like  his 
"Of  Human  Bondage."  More  sincere  and  better  sus- 
tained work  than  the  "Moon."  I'm  fagged.  So  is  the 
Missus.  We  were  planning  to  go  to  Atlantic  City  Oct. 
1st  but  nothing  settled.  I  suffered  from  a  heavy  money 
loss — heavy  for  my  meagre  purse — and  that  may  defer 
the  trip.  But  as  we  both  need  a  change  it  would  be 
foolish  not  to  draw  a  little  advance  royalty — as  I  can — 
and  go  away !  especially  if  I  take  another  job  on  a  news- 
paper. I'll  post  you  if  I  do.  Glad  to  hear  of  your 
health;  la  sante,  d'abord !  Yes,  Roosevelt  autographed 
the  photo;  it  appears — reduced — in  "Steeplejack."  Did 
you  get  my  letter  telling  you  of  Shaw's  consent  to  the 
publication?  With  love  as  ever.         j,„„ 


1920 

To  T.  R.  Smith 

Mr.  T.  R.  Smith  was  closely  associated  with  Horace  B.  Liveright  in 
the  private  publication  of  "Painted^ Veils,"  which  Mr.  Huneker 
thought  at  first  to  entitle  "Istar." 

Westminster  Court 
My  Dear  Tom:  Jan.  i6,  1920. 

How  did  "Istar"  stray  to  Chicago  there  to  be  read  by 
Rascoel*  I  don't  like  the  notion  that  the  book  is  to 
travel  over  America  to  be  read  and  criticised  by  all  and 
sundry.  It's  a  risk,  too.  Not  that  Burton  isn't  a  prime 
chap.  He  is.  He  wrote  me  a  charming  letter,  that 
would  have  made  a  less  vainer  man  than  myself  proud. 
Nevertheless,  the  precedent  is  bad.  You  people  know 
what  you  want  and  need  no  confirmatory  evidence.  Be- 
sides— the  risk  of  losing  the  damn  story  !  Pages  33  &  61 
are  missing  in  my  carbon  copy  here;  also  the  title  page 
for  the  Sixth  Gate  (i.  e.  Part).  When  I  corrected  my 
duplicate  typescript  I  must  have  left  the  3  missing  sheets 
etc.  in  the  original,  in  your  possession.  I  should  very 
much  like  to  get  that  original.  I  fancy  that  you  or 
H.  L.  [Horace  Liveright]  were  West;  hence  the  Chicago 
"mention."  Next  week  I'll  run  in  some  morning  around 
noon.__ Monday,  Jan.  26,  the  Chicago  Opera  comes  and 
for  5  weeks  I'll  be  driven  like  hell  &  damnation.  Let  me 
hear  when  you'll  be  in — any  day  but  Wednesday.  I 
want  those  3  pages;  also  I  must  make  a  few  changes 
which  Rascoe  kindly  suggested.     Drop  me  a  line. 

As  Ever       t 

Jim 

*  Burton  Rascoe,  now  Literary  Editor  of  the  New  York,  then  of  the  Chicago, 
Tribune. 

287 


288    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Mrs.  Josephine  Ditrichstein 

Westminster  Court 
Feb  25/20 
My  Dear  Josephine: 

I  am  writing  early  to  tell  you  that  "Oberon"  will  be 
sung  Thursday  evening  March  4  next  at  the  Metropoli- 
tan, and  as  you  once  expressed  a  wish  to  go  I  hope  you 
haven't  changed  your  mind.  It  is  a  magnificent  pro- 
duction, even  if  we  miss  Lilli  Lehmann,  Alvary  and  Seidl. 
Ponselle  is  superb  and  the  orchestra  under  Bodanzky  is 
of  the  best  nowadays.  B.  has  woven  in  several  piano 
pieces  for  the  various  intermezzi.  The  last  scene  is  effec- 
tive. Do  go!  Say  the  word  and  I'll  send  2  seats  by 
next  Tuesday. 

My  Josie  has  again  been  in  bed — 4  days.  Better  now. 
Strained  her  side.  I've  asked  Scribners  to  send  you  my 
new  Mary  Garden  book,  illustrated,  next  week.  It  is 
called  "Bedouins."  It  is  a  series  of  light  essays.  "Stee- 
plejack" delayed  by  printers'  strikes  for  3  months  is 
slated  for  next  October.  My  novel — 80,000  words,  writ- 
ten last  Summer  in  7  weeks — to  be  privately  printed  like 
George  Moore's  "Story-Teller's  Holiday"  and  only  by 
subscription.  It  will  be  de  luxe  $10  the  volume.  It  is 
the  New  York  of  20  years  ago,  realistic.  Some  of  the 
big  English  writers  and  critics  say  it  is — well,  my  ears 
burned  1 

As  soon  as  the  strain  of  the  season  is  over,  we  hope  to 
see  you  and  Leo  [Ditrichstein].  We  are  very  anxious  to 
see  the  play.  Then  I  hope  you  will  let  me  autograph 
"  Bedouins  "  for  you.  I  shall  send  Kate  Wright  *  a  volume 
for  herself.  We  both  like  her  very  much.  I  consider  her 
a  talented  girl  and — rara  avis — an  excellent  critic.     The 

*  Katharine  Wright,  assistant  music  critic  of  The  New  York  Tribune, 


TO  PITTS  SANBORN  289 

Chicago  Co.  has  given  an  inartistic  season,  plenty  of 

magnificent  voices — none  better,  except  their  wretched 

tenors — but  ensemble  is  the  secret  of  grand  opera;  a 

miserable  orchestra,   mediocre  conductors — save  Mari- 

nuzzi,  abominable  stage  management,  poor  repertory — 

what's  the  good  of  the  voices !    With  love  to  you  and 

Leo  from  both  As  Ever  t 

Jim 

To  Pitts  Sanborn 

Mr.  Huneker  had  taken  lunch  the  day  beforeat'the  Harvard  Club 
with  Mr.  Sanborn,  music  critic  of  The  New  York  Globe. 

•Westminster  Court 
_  -  _.  March  14/20 

My  dear  Pitts: 

I  hope  you  didn't  think  I  ran  away  yesterday  on  pur- 
pose— I  certainly  intended  to  say  a  last  word  to  you,  but 
you  had  vanished.  However,  permit  me  to  pay  my 
"visit  of  digestion"  by  mail.  It  was  a  charming  hour, 
the  one  I  spent  with  you  at  the  club,  and  Fm  in  your 
debt.  Now  won't  you  be  amiable  and  convey  to  the 
young  lady  who  wrote  the  Globe  notice  my  appreciation 
of  her  prose;  even  critics  of  gardenias  become  poets  I 

Enclosed  is  a  note  which,  while  written  a  week  or  10' 
days  ago,  confirms  her  theory  of  my  "epithetical"  jeal- 
ousy re  Mary.*  Well,  so  I  am.  You  needn't  mind  for 
you've  written  the  finest — because  most  poetical  and  pic- 
turesque— line  about  our  goddess.  That's  why  a  poet 
always  outpoints  a  proseman.         *     ^  „  f 

James  Huneker 

•  Mary  Garden. 


290    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Dear  Ben:  Monday  (March  29,  1920) 

You  are  a  brick!  I  don't  agree  with  you  concerning 
my  writing — I  am  not  a  stylist;  in  fact,  when  it  comes  to 
sheer  writing  I  am  not  in  it  with  you.  Regarding  M.  G. 
[Mary  Garden] :  you  haven't  seen  her  in  all  her  roles,  you 
haven't  studied  her.  She  is  one  of  the  great  comediennes 
— her  voice  is  a  by-product.  Besides,  I  wanted  to  paint 
a  prose-portrait  in  the  grand  manner,  Venetian  in  color 
and  character.  Don't  smile:  the  book  is  dedicated  to 
my  own  beloved  Jozia,  my  lawful  wedded  wife !  If  this 
gets  into  the  news  I  lose  forever  my  reputation  as  a  bo- 
hemian — and  I'm  an  old  bourgeois !  She  is  worth  the 
whole  shooting  match  of  singers,  actresses,  and  other  2 
legged  nuisances. 

You  are  earning  for  yourself,  my  boy,  an  enviable  repu- 
tation as  a  critic;  above  all,  you  are  an  original  and  auda- 
cious writer.  By  this  time  a  year  you  won't  be  com- 
plaining about  lack  of  publishers;  they  will  be  so  tame  by 
1 92 1  they  will  feed  out  of  your  hand — like  guinea-pigs. 
I  wish  you  could  read  my  novel — but  I  can't  let  it  out 
for  a  holiday,  not  even  to  play  in  your  backyard. 

As  ever 


Jim 


To  Lawrence  Gilman 


Mr.  Gilman  had  written,  in  a  programme-note  on  Chopin's  F 
minor  Piano  Concerto,  that  "Mr.  Huneker  in  his  Chopin  book  dis- 
plays a  somewhat  platonic  attitude  toward  both  the  concertos." 

Dear  Lawrence:  Wed.  Mar.  31/20 

"Platonic"  is  very  good,  but  FII  never  hear  the  end 
of  it;  last  night  I  got  about  23  hastily  scribbled  notes  at 


TO  HENRY   L.   MENCKEN  291 

the  hall  and  this  morning — 2  letters !  Why  ?  Is  (or 
was?)  my  reputation  for  virility  so  shocking?  I  gaze 
sadly,  retrospectively;  alas!  ! 

Yours  quite  agitated 

As  Ever  Cordially 

Jim  the  Penman 

To  John  Quinn 
Dear  John:  Wed.  Mar.  31/20 

Even  if  I  had  the  time  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  print  any- 
thing— white  paper  is  now  at  prohibition  prices.  I'm 
cut  down  daily  &  Sunday.  I  smuggled  the  Independent 
notice  in.  No  art  since  last  Jan.  none  till  June,  I'm 
sorry.  Next  Sunday  by  bracketing  the  names  of  Brahms 
with  Cezanne — an  imbecile  combination — I'm  enabled  to 
write  of  Cezanne  (nothing  novel).  I'm  not  well.  My 
left  side.  Probably  intercostal  neuritis.  Pain.  Had 
lovely  letter  from  H.  C.  Lodge;  also  from  Victor  Dowling. 
Will  write  3000  words  for  Bookman  May  issue,  H.  James 
letters.  Great  stuff.  Either  April  17  or  24:  am  free  for 
that  luncheon — but  even  then  I  must  learn  if  no  concerts 
are  scheduled.  Lord,  John,  what  pictures  you  own. 
That  Roualt,  that  Dufy !  You're  a  wonder.  Who  is 
Gaston  Lachaise?  Never  heard  of  him.  He  is  appalling, 
Colossal,  Monumentally  miniature,  Vital,  Crazy. 

As  Ever  t 

Jim 

To  Harry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Menck:  May  8/20 

Thank  you  for  your  sympathetic  letter.     It  consoled 
me  a  bit.     The  bogie  of  diabetes  bothers  me  less  than  the 


292    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

severe  neuralgic  pains  in  my  stomach — IVe  been  x  rayed; 
nothing,  just  pain.  Dr.  Williams,  I  need  hardly  tell  you, 
is  competent  to  handle  my  case — which  is  a  mild  and 
common  one.  He  prescribes  Karlsbad — nacb  kur,  Pilsen, 
But  my  newspaper  insists  on  England — i.  e.  London; 
later  I  may  take  a  kur  at  Bath.  I  hate  starting  in  again 
at  old  round  of  work  and  I  always  find  London  depress- 
ing in  summer.  As  for  exercise — I  have  developed 
Triceps  on  my  ankles  from  the  grind  of  climbing  subway 
and  L  roads  during  last  winter.  I  need  a  rest,  a  long 
drink  and  nothing  to  write.  Sorry  to  bore  you  with  these 
data.  But,  really,  Menck,  your  words  cheered  me. 
Sweets  are  more  deadly  than  beer  and — believe  me — it 
was  just  one  year  since  I  sipped  beer  and  wine!  I'm 
glad  you  are  going  west.  ^  ^^^^ 


To  Ben  De  Casseres 
Dear  Ben:  Thursday  May  13  1920 

I  haven't  a  photo.  Scribner's  ought  to  have  some.  If 
not  get  M.  H.  to  ask  the  Philadelphia  Press  people  (7th 
&  Chestnut  Sts.).  They  have  the  picture  you  liked — 
taken  in  1918. 

You  certainly  find  a  lot  to  write  about.  I'm  glad  you 
are  at  last  in  matrimonial  safe  harbor.  You  remember 
the  shabbas  evening  prayer  about  a  good  wife  being  the 
precious  jewel  of  her  husband  and  children!  It  is  so. 
Without  good  women  the  world  wouldn't  be  much — a, 
sandy  plain  without  trees,  and  vipers  in  the  offing.  I 
know,  now,  you  know. 

Thank  you  for  all  the  bother  you  take.  I  liked  the 
Bookman  article  of  yours.    Don't  take  "Bedouins"  too 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  293 

seriously;  sweepings  from  my  dusty  floor.     But  "Steeple- 
jack" you  will  like  better.     You  are  down  for  a  copy. 

I'm  ill.     To  hell  with  writing.  . 

As  ever,  i- 

To  John  Quinn 

Westminster  Court 

My  dear  John:  May  26/20 

I  haven't  written  because  I've  been  wretched  with  my 
pet  neuritis  in  the  stomach  and  because  Tm  really 
ashamed  to  go  about  belly-aching  with  a  pain  that  can 
be  treated,  perhaps  cured,  by  a  visit  to  Karlsbad.  I  went 
up  to  the  Met.  Museum  twice  and  saw  your  loans,  sev- 
eral new  to  me.  I  wrote  of  them  editorially  in  The  World 
last  Sunday.  (Frank  Cobb  is  kind  enough  to  let  me  try 
my  hand  at  objective  writing  on  his  page;*  "significant 
form"  as  opposed  to  subjective  ramblings  in  my  own  go- 
as-you-please  department.)  Your  Redons  are  simply 
miracles  of  tenderness  and  beauty. 

Have  you  a  new  apartment  in  view  for  next  autumn? 
We  are  hoping  we  shan't  be  taxed  out  of  our  own. 

Is  EI  Greggo  with  The  Sun-Herald?  "Bedouins"  is 
selling  well  for  such  a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches.  But 
I'm  quite  discouraged  about  '*Istar"  ["Painted  Veils"], 
which  is  praised  to  the  very  apoplexy  of  enthusiasm  but 
which  no  publisher  dares  to  consider.  What  to  do? 
The  present  hue  and  cry  discourages  them,  and,  I'm 
sorry  to  say,  that  the  majority  concur  with  your  first 
dictum  that  expurgation  would  prove  fatal.  To  this  I 
do  not  subscribe.  A  middle  way  out  has  come  to  me. 
Jules  Bois,  now  in  Chicago,  is  translating  "Melomaniacs" 
and  "Visionaries,"  selections  from  both  volumes,  and  I 

•  The  editorial  page  conducted  by  Mr.  Cobb. 


294    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

fancy  I'll  ask  him  to  translate  "Istar."  There  couldn't 
be  much  money  in  the  short  stories  and  there  might  be 
in  "  Istar,"  which  is  essentially  a  problem  of  deracination 
that  might  interest  Gallic  readers,  apart  from  its  freedom 
in  the  handling.  At  any  rate,  I'll  try  to  have  a  Munich 
publisher  only  too  wilhng  to  take  Lola  Lorme's  projected 
translation.  My  "Chopin"  is  in  the  second  German  edi- 
tion (payable  in  German  marks?).  Perhaps  the  absurd 
wave  of  Puritanism  will  be  done  with  by  1921. 

Now,  Mr.  Pulitzer  wishes  me  to  go  to  England  for  4 
or  5  months;  incidentally  take  a  cure  at  Bath  (excellent 
for  gout,  &c.).  My  expenses,  steamship,  &c.  will  be  paid. 
The  Missus,  of  course,  goes  along.  The  difficulty  to  se- 
cure a  ship  has  been  great;  even  Ehhu  Root  is  on  the 
waiting  list,  at  least,  he  was  yesterday.  However,  I'm 
booked  on  the  Baltic,  June  26th.  (Please,  John,  keep 
this  dark  till  I  see  you.)  Fm  sending  for  passports,  &c. 
at  the  present.  I  wonder  if  I  would  be  presuming  too 
much  on  your  good  will  to  ask  you  a  favor?  It  is  this: 
The  U.  S.  Government,  State  Department,  issues  a  form, 
a  sort  of  special  permit,  signed  by  Sec.  Bainbridge  Colby, 
which  runs  something  like  this:  "The  U.  S.  recommends 
Mr.  J.  G.  H.  to  the  courtesy  of  representatives  of  the 
U.  S.  &c."  That's  alL  Very  brief,  but  the  signature 
tells.  I've  seen  one,  and  it  would  prove  of  value  to  me 
in  England.  Could  you  ask  Mr.  Colby  for  one  of  these 
"moral"  certificates  for  me,  for  "James  Gibbons  Hun- 
eker,"  a  citizen  of  the  U.  S.,  &c.?— if  it  can  be  done  with- 
out embarrassing  you;  if  not,  forget  it,  John.  I'll  be 
.  obliged  to  you  either  way.  I  thought  as  a  newspaper 
man,  special  correspondent  of  The  World— I  expect  to 
write  lots  from  London  (and  not  on  political  issues) — my 
proposition  might  be  favorably  considered.     What  do 


TO  JOHN  QUINN  295 

you  think?    At  any  rate,  drop  me  a  line  at  your  leisure 
and  let  us  all  meet  some  Saturday — next  Sat.  if  you  care 

*»•  A«  ^^^^'  James 

To  John  Quinii 

The  second  paragraph  of  this  letter  refers  to  the  arrangement  for 
the  publication  of  "Painted  Veils"  and  to  the  presentation  of  the 
manuscript  to  Mr.  Quinn. 

My  dear  John:  Wed.  June  16/20 

Your  letter  gave  us  much  joy.  You  are  a  friend  in- 
deed !  Thank  you  for  the  new  addresses — especially 
Conrad's.  But  if  you  should  write  Symons  don't  say 
I'm  going  over.  I've  decided  to  see  no  one  of  the  old 
crowd:  not  Wells,  nor  Bennett,  nor  Symons,  nor  Ellis; 
perhaps  Galsworthy — I'm  not  sure.  I'm  tired,  so  is  the 
public  of  Shaw,  Moore,  Chesterton — their  publicity  agents 
have  overworked.  I'm  going  in  for  a  new  crowd — 
especially  the  scientists,  beginning  with  my  old  friends 
Sir  E.  Ray  Lancaster  and  Hugh  Elliott.  I'm  down  and 
out  today.  Auto  noises,  cackling  of  human  geese  and 
surmenage,  I'll  be  better  at  sea. 

Please  don't  put  yourself  out  to  write  again.  The 
"Istar"*  arrangement  is  admirable.  I  hope  she  will 
never  leave  that  particular  safe.  It's  to  be  your  property 
as  soon  as  the  book  appears — and  it's  damned  little  after 
your  many  gracious  acts  of  friendship.  Jules  Bois  has 
the  copy.  He  finds  the  story  overflowing  with  observa- 
tion and  vitahty  ("gonfle  d'observation  et  de  vie").  I 
fancy  it  will  go  into  French.  When  you  see  the  fourth 
member  of  the  quartette  give  her  our  regards.  The 
Missus  says  she  is  genuine — and  women  know  !    Good  bye 

•^^^^-  Our  love,  James 

*The  title  originally  intended  for  "  Painted  Veils." 


296    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Jules  Bois 

Hotel  Rubens, 

Buckingham  Palace  Road  London 
S.  W. 
My  dear  Friend:  Sunday  July  25/20 

Your  last  letter  was  forwarded  here  10  days  ago  and  I 
was  glad  to  get  it  for  I  was,  still  am,  down  hearted,  the 
result  of  my  nerves;  also  the  London  weather — rain  2 
weeks  without  a  glimpse  of  blue  sky.  Spleen !  Baude- 
laire must  have  carried  in  his  poor  lacerated  heart  a  bit 
of  London:  "Spleen  et  Ideal" — only  I  have  no  ideals  left; 
nothing  but  an  insane  desire  to  get  to  Paris,  else  home. 
But  here  I  am  chained  to  the  wheel  of  writing.  I  must 
write  at  least  once  a  week  and  I  feel  like  Ixion  I 

Thank  you  my  dear  Jules  Bois  for  the  interest  you 
display.  I  shudder  now  at  the  things  I've  written  in 
"Istar"  ["Painted  Veils"]  (or  whatever  is  her  name  I) 
and  I  hope  you  won't  hesitate  to  delete  anything  that 
seems  in  bad  taste — not  to  mention  morals.  Strictly  con- 
sidered the  book  is  not  immoral,  for  it  preaches  the  old 
sermon:  "The  wages  of  sin  is  death."  However — all  this 
is  in  nubibus.  I  discovered  here  that  3  of  my  books  are 
translated  into  German — and  without  my  consent.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  war  our  "friends"  across  the  Rhine 
calmly  grabbed  "Chopin" — now  in  2nd  Munich  edition; 
"Iconoclasts"  and  the  stories  a  selection  from  "Melo- 
maniacs."  Charming  candor  I  The  translator  wrote  me 
with  engaging  frankness — Some  Day  (der  tag)  I'll  get  my 
royalties,  in  depreciated  marks.  What  a  wonderful  race  I 
All  this  entre-nous;  but  it  is  such  a  joke  I  know  that  you 
will  appreciate  it.  I  crossed  on  the  S.  S.  "Baltic"  with 
Monsignor  Kelly  and  Father  Shannon  of  Chicago  and 
they  spoke  often  of  you,  warmly,  admiringly.     Kelly  is  a 


TO  BENJAMIN  ROEDER  297 

delightful  man.  I  like  priests,  mauvais  sujet  que  je  suis! 
You  should  have  been  a  Prior  in  some  vast  monastery. 
You  are  erudite  enough  for  a  dozen  such.  My  best  re- 
gards to  you.  y 

James  Huneker 

To  Benjamin  Roeder 

—.  -^  London,  Aug.  11/20 

Dear  Ben: 

Just  a  hasty  line  to  thank  you — belated  thanks — for 
your  wire  to  the  Baltic.  It's  been  raining  here  40  days 
without  intermission.  Fve  seen  all  the  shows.  D.  B.* 
is  badly  needed  for  production — which  with  a  few  excep- 
tions are  rotten.  I  missed  Morris  Gest's  show — it  was 
off.  The  Barrie  play  is  really  opera — it  could  be  made  a 
fantasy,  but  it's  staged  horribly.  Galsworthy's  "Skin 
Game"  and  "The  Beggar's  Opera"  (dated  1723)  are  the 
best.  I've  written  at  length  for  the  Sunday  World  and 
said  something  about  D.  B.  But  Ben  the  "Beggar's 
Opera"  is  the  most  wonderful  old  English  play  and  bal- 
lad music  I've  ever  seen.  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  are  chil- 
dren in  comparison.  And  a  strong  production — Sir 
Thomas  Beecham's  singers,  all  English. 

"Chu  Chin  Chow"  4th  year,  "Garden  of  Allah" — a 
million  years.  What  an  easy  public  is  London's  Royal 
Opera — rotten;  all  ballets,  Russian. 

Don't  bother  answering  this.  We  shall  be  home  soon. 
Trip  a  failure.  Wrote  10  stories  for  Sundays.  Hope 
you  and  Benny  enjoyed  your  vacation.  We  haven't. 
The  Missus  joins  me  in  remembrances.  Give  my  re- 
gards to  D.  B.  A 
°                                              As  ever,  ,       tt 

Jim  Huneker 

•  David  Belasco. 


298    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 


To  Maxwell  E.  Perkins 

Mr.  Perkins,  of  the  editorial  department  of  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons,  had  inquired  if  Mr.  Huneker  would  be  interested  to  see  the 
advertisements  of  "Steeplejack"  which  had  just  been  prepared. 

Westminster  Court:  Sept.  11/20 
Dear  Mr.  Perkins: 

Fm  obliged  to  you  for  your  speedy  response  and  for 
your  letters.  I  hope  I  didn't  sound  exigent  in  my  let- 
ter! As  for  the  advts.  magazine  and  otherwise,  pray 
don't  bother  sending  them.  I'm  not  in  the  least  skepti- 
cal, only  bored  and  irritated,  and  for  that  condition  you 
are  not  to  blame.  Fancy  going  3000  miles  for  a  vacation 
and  then  writing  25,000  words  in  5  weeks:  for  The 
World  most  of  which  has  appeared.  Worse,  dodging 
around  London  for  fresh  material !  I  returned  played 
out  for  I'm  past  60  and  not  too  damned  young!  I'm 
about  the  best  specimen  of  an  "awful  example"  for  too 
ambitious  young  authors,  my  dear  Perkins,  that  you  can 
find  anywhere.  After  40  years  of  penwork  I'm  still  bound 
to  the  Ixion  wheel  of  Journalism.  (There  is  a  bully 
story  in  the  situation  only  I  don't  care  to  write  it  coram 
publico!)  I  understand,  of  course,  the  "Bedouins"  mat- 
ter and  its  charging  to  the  next  royalty  account.  I  only 
hope  "Steeplejack"  will  pay  expenses.  Anything  more 
I  dare  not  expect  for  fear  of  shell-shock  and  heart  failure ! 
I  shall  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  caHing  upon  you  when 
my  hay-fever  has  vanished  and  thanking  you  personally 
for  your  kindness — above  all  for  your  angehc  patience 

Yours  Sincerely,       ^  u 

'^       James  Huneker 


TO  BENJAMIN  DE  CASSERES  299 


To  Arthur  H.  Scribner 

This  letter  was  written  on  the  receipt  of  the  first  copies  of  "Stee- 
plejack." 

Westminster  Court 

My  dear  Mr.  Scribner:  S^p-  ^5/^^ 

It's  not  often  that  a  man  lives  to  enjoy  such  a  gift  as 
the  one  I  received  yesterday  from  the  Scribners;  not  even 
if  he  has  worked  21  years  as  I  have  under  the  fostering 
wing  of  your  house.  A  beautifully  made  book,  a  frame 
for  a  mediocre  picture!  I  am  keenly  sensible  of  the 
many  favors  and  courtesies  I've  had  from  your  hands 
and  I  hope  you  won't  find  me  ungrateful.  As  I  wrote 
Vance  Thompson  the  other  day:  "Now  that  I've  written 
and  pubhshed  16  books  to  get  my  hand  in  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  write  that  novel  which  William  Dean  Howells 
told  me  that  I  should  write !  Of  course,  I  shan't.  One 
never  does  write  what  he  expected  to  when  young;  but 
there  is  no  doubt  about  "getting  my  hand  in,"  and  if  I 
have  practised  my  scales  in  public  it  is  only  because 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons  made  it  possible.     Again  let  me 

say— I  thank  you !  Sincerelv 

bmcereiy,      j^^^^  Huneker 


To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Mr.  De  Casseres's  article  in  The  Times  was  a  review  of  "Steeple* 
jack"  and  a  consideration  of  Mr.  Huneker  as  critic  and  writer. 

Dear  Ben  ^^^^^y'  ^'P*  '^Z^^' 

My  homecoming  was  pleasant  indeed  for  I  read  your 
Judge  and  Times  articles.  The  last  named  is  a  brilliant 
bit  of  craftsmanship.  I'm  deeply  indebted  to  you  for 
you  sent  the  lumbering  volumes  off  with  a  bang.     En- 


300    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

closed  may  interest  you.  It  is  my  best  book — absolutely. 
I'll  see  that  you  get  a  copy;  but  not  for  review.  The  story 
is  polyphonic — 3  separate  studies  of  character,  3  heroines, 
all  woven  into  a  dense,  complex  pattern.  Monck  is  not 
right  when  he  speaks  of  looseness  in  form;  the  reverse 
is  the  case,  as  John  Quinn  asserts.  Best  wishes  to  you 
and  yours !    To  hell  with  puritanism  I 

A^  E^^-"         Jim 
P.  S.    Keep  mum  about  my  novel  1 

To  Maxwell  E.  Perkins 

Westminster  Court 
Dear  Mr.  Perkins:  Sep.  22/20 

Here  I  am  bothering  you  again !  Madame  Frida  Ash- 
forth,  to  whom  "Steeplejack"  is  indebted  for  several 
interesting  pictures — inter  alia  the  youthful  Patti — 
writes  me  that  she  hasn't  received  the  books.  She  was 
on  my  private  list  and  she  lives  at  No.  136  East  38th  St. 
Cor.  Lexington  Ave.,  City.  But  as  her  summer  home  is 
at  Huntington,  L.  I. — where  she  is  at  present — perhaps, 
if  the  books  were  sent  her  at  her  town  address  by  hand, 
they  couldn't  be  delivered;  if,  by  mail,  all  her  mail  is  for- 
warded. So  won't  you  please  make  an  inquiry  and  if 
the  books  were  returned  because  house  is  closed  please 
have  them  re-addressed  to  Huntington,  L.  I.  I'm  so 
anxious  about  the  matter.  She  is  80  and  as  lively  as  a 
lark.  The  Steeplejacks  will  give  her  the  pleasure  of  rec- 
ollections. It  may  interest  you  to  know  that  another 
octogenarian,  Mrs.  Emma  Fames,  mother  of  the  only 
Emma  Fames  got  her  copy  and  wrote  me  today  a  glow- 
ing letter.  Such  things  give  me  Joy,  more  joy  than  if 
the  girls  had  written.     Some  day  you  may  feel  the  same 


TO  HENRY  L.  MENCKEN  301 

— if  you  live  long  enough;  which  I  hope  you  will.  But 
it's  a  dance  of  shadows,  these  ghosts  of  40  years  ago. 
Vm  getting  on,  my  lad,  though  I  plan  to  be  at  the  Goethe 
Centenary  celebration,  Weimar,  1932 !  So  there's  hope 
for  you.  With  renewed  apologies  for  the  trouble  I  made 
for  you.  I'll  not  be  forgetful  this  winter.  Did  you  see 
any  of  the  London  letters  in  The  World  every  Sunday  be- 
ginning August  ist? 

With  regards,  as  ever, 

James  Huneker 

To  Henry  L.  Mencken 

Westminster  Court: 
Sep.  28/20 
Dear  Hal: 

I  presumed  last  week  to  use  your  name  when  I  was 
asked  about  a  literary  editor  for  The  Sun-Herald.  I  hope 
you  are  not  offended.  My  old  boss  on  The  Herald  (1906) 
and  until  Sep.  12  on  The  World,  C.  M.  Lincoln,  and  the 
best  ever,  has  gone  to  look  after  the  Munsey  newspaper 
interests.  He  is  one  of  the  big  organizers  in  journahsm. 
He  is  a  lovely  chap,  a  big  brain  and  a  giant  in  action.  I 
spoke  last  year  about  you,  hoping  to  get  you  for  a  weekly 
feuilleton  on  The  World.  Enclosed  his  letter  and  do 
please  return  to  me. 

Now,  Menck,  you  owe  it  to  yourself,  and  I  propose  to 
play  the  Dutch  uncle,  you  can  no  longer  be  kept  in  the 
''pent  up  Ithaca"  of  magazine  life.  You  need  not  leave 
your  comfortable  home  in  HoIIins  St. — how  I  envy  you 
Baltimore ! — and  no  doubt  N.  Y.  would  be,  indeed  is  an- 
tipathetic. You  must  consider  Lincoln's  offer.  You  owe 
it  to  your  country.  You  are  the  big  critical  centre  now. 
You  should  have  a  wider  audience — though  the  Lord 


302    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

knows  you  can't  sneeze  in  Baltimore  without  rattling  the 
window  panes  in  Chicago.  I  told  C.  M.  L.  that  you 
would  put  The  Sun  on  the  literary  map  where  20  years 
ago  it  was  the  "big  noise."  Don't  think  I'm  exag- 
gerating, a  weekly  page  would  set  the  country  buzzing. 
Please  think  it  over,  lad.  I  know  money  is  not  your 
game  (you  can  ask  and  get  big  money  from  L.)  Keep 
this  dark  and  if  I've  been  imprudent  set  it  down  to  my 
personal  affection  for  you — for  George*  also. 

As  ever,  j,^ 

To  Philip  Hale 

Mr.  Hale  had  pointed  to  one  or  two  misstatements  in  "Steeple- 
jack" which  were  due  to  the  fact  that  on  account  of  a  printers' 
strike  its  appearance  was  delayed  almost  a  year  after  the  plates 
were  made. 

Oct.  7,  1920 

The  exceptions  you  note  were  unavoidable.  Julia 
Heinrich  died  since  the  story  was  written — 191 8 — and 
the  matter  was  electrotyped  a  year  because  of  the  print- 
ers* strike  in  191 9.  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  alter  a  line 
since  Aug.  19 19  when  I  read  proof.  Of  course  the  Sun 
salary  was  not  a  boast  but  intended  as  a  warning  to  young 
innocents  who  descry  millions  in  newspaper  criticism. 
At  least,  dear  old  man,  you  read  the  book,  which  Harry 
Mencken  did  not.  He  confessed,  naively  in  a  letter  yes- 
terday, that  he  disliked  the  volumes  because  of  the 
Roosevelt  references,  the  picture,  and  my  100  per  cent 
Americanism !  But  please — entre  nous, — you  are  quite 
right — vol.  I  is  the  better  of  the  two.  We  are  home  from 
London,   a  desperately  dreary  summer.     Rain,   gloom, 

*  George  Jean  Natheko. 


TO  BENJAMIN  DE  CASSERES  303 

dulness.  England  is  down  at  the  heels,  but  will  rise,  as 
ever,  triumphantly.  I  wrote  25,000  words  for  The  World 
so  Vm  enjoying  a  vacation  this  month.  .  .  .  The  next 
day  I  was  operated  on  for  cystitis  .  .  .  my  screams  of 
agony  were  heard  over  Flatbush  and  its  adjacent  ceme- 
teries. 

No — I  didn't  write  everything  in  "Steeplejack."  The 
diffuseness  of  the  form,  the  periodical  publication,  and 
the  looseness  and  repetition  inseparable  from  such  a  form 
are  only  too  plain.  One  volume  would  have  sufficed. 
In  the  fiction  "Painted  Veils"  about  to  appear,  privately 
printed,  I've  traced  a  parallel  route,  frankly  dealing  with 
sex;  also  with  the  development  of  a  young  American 
deracinated  because  born  at  Paris  and  suffering  from  the 
transplantation  here.  It  is  polyphonic,  i.  e.  three  stories 
in  one,  fugal  treatment  of  3  heroines.  I  hope  you  will 
like  it.  I'll  see  that  you  get  a  copy.  Long  ago,  Philip, 
you  told  me  up  at  our  old  barn  in  Madison  Ave.  that  I 
could  write  a  novel  if  I  tried.  I've  tried — and  at  60, 
What?  J    ^ 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Westminster  Court 

T-N  r>  Oct.  10/20 

Dear  Ben: 

I  owe  you  at  least  a  dozen  letters  in  reply  to  those  you 
sent  to  me  abroad — which  are  tumbling  in  only  now.  I 
read  a  lot  of  your  stuff.  You  are  perpetual  movement 
incarnate.  I  only  hope  there  is  enough  to  make  the  pot 
boil;  any  more,  just  now,  we  can't  expect.  I'm  dissat- 
isfied. The  entire  country  wears  a  hostile  look.  It's  all 
changed.  Puritania  is  ruling.  This  morning's  World,  if 
you  can  read  the  badly  inked  impression  may  interest 


304    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

you.  I  told  Mencken  I  would  touch  him  up.  It's  mild. 
But  "Steeplejack'*  is  selling.  I'm  glad,  because  I  al- 
ready owe  possible  royalties  to  the  publishers.  And  so 
it  goes,  Ben — There  is  nothing  in  pen  work.  The  thea- 
tre, the  Movies,  yes.    But — books!    Hell.     I  ought  to 

know.  A    T7 

As  Ever  j 

JIM 


To  Frida  Ashjortb 

Westminster  Court 

My  Dear  Frida: 

We  are  delighted  with  your  snapshot — it  is  as  good  as 
the  best  posed  photograph,  if  not  so  elaborately  finished 
— Thanks  I  I  am  sending  you  an  unbound  copy  of 
*' Painted  Veils"  for  your  own  private  perusal:  Please 
don't  let  it  leave  your  house;  the  regular  edition  will  soon 
be  ready  and  then  I'll  carry  you  a  copy  inscribed  when 
you  return  to  town.  I  want  you  to  be  the  first  to  read 
the  story.  You  will  recognize  the  portraits.  When  you 
have  finished  just  wrap  it  up  carefully  and  return  it  here; 
but  at  your  leisure!  I'm  downcast  over  the  horrors  of 
this  swamp  of  journalism.  If  I  could  only  go  to  France 
for  a  year  or  two  and  write  a  couple  of  plays  I  might  get 
a  little  money  to  see  me  to  the  end  of  my  days.  There's 
nothing  in  books;  not  a  penny,  only  press  notices  and 
they  won't  pay  the  rent.  I'm  looking  for  a  millionaire !  I 
And  New  York?  A  horror  of  a  place,  people,  noise,  vul- 
garity. Flatbush  is  almost  as  noisy  and  what  narrow- 
minded  bourgeoisie !  I  envy  you  the  quiet  of  Hunting- 
ton.   Jozia  sends  love,  as  do  I. 

Yours  Toujours!  » 


TO  MME.   FRIDA  ASHFORTH  305 

To  La  Marquise  Clara  Lanza 

Westminster  Court 

Chere  Madame  Lanza:  ^  *  ^^^^° 

Thank  you  heartily  for  your  magazine  which  is  a  real 
literary  treasure-trove.  I  shall  keep  it  among  my  ''curi- 
osities," together  with  your  kind  letter.  I  saw  G.  M. 
[George  Moore]  this  summer  twice,  in  London — in  July 
— but  both  times  he  was  riding  and  when  I  called  at 
Ebury  St.  No.  121,  he  was  away  on  week-ends.  He  has, 
however,  "Steeplejack"*  and  I  fancy  he  will  not  like  the 
reference  to  his  age.  Men  are  more  sensitive  than  women 
— except  those  who  reach  70:  then  they  begin  to  add 
years  from  sheer  boastfulness.  I'll  do  it  in  10  years 
simply  because  I  am  a  man!  Again  thanking  you  and 
now  twice  in  your  debt 

I  am  As  Ever 

Yours  Sincerely 

James  Huneker 

To  Mme,  Frida  Asbjorth 

Westminster  Court: 

n  «•        rN  T-  Nov.  3/20 

My  Dear  Frida: 

Of  course  you  weren't  schulmeisteriscb — wenn  schon, 
den  schon!  You  were  sensible,  wise,  consoling  as  usual 
and  I  hope  I  didn't  get  on  your  nerves  with  my  petty 
memories.  The  fact  is  I  am,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  facing  a  dreary  future.  It's  not  my  years— /at 
mes  soixante  arts — but  if  I  lose  my  health  my  name  is 
mud.  I  have  no  insurance,  and  I've  saved  no  money, — 
about  enough  for  cremation  expenses.     That's  why  I  feel 

*  See  vol.  II,  p.  233. 


3o6    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

down-hearted.  My  books  bring  me  little — Fm  in  debt 
to  Scribners  for  money  borrowed  when  we  were  both  ill 
in  May  1919;  about  $3000.  Thanks  to  "Steeplejack'* 
and  "Painted  Veils"— I  am  to  get  only  $1800  for  the 
latter — I  shall  be  able  to  pay  off  all  I  owe.  I  finally  con- 
fess this  to  you  first  because  I  am  not  knocking  at  your 
gate  for  help.  If  I  were  I'd  say  nothing.  We  are  not 
an  extravagant  couple.  But  rent  and  food  and  living 
expenses ! !  eat  up  my  salary  from  The  World.  So  there 
you  are. 

What  I  was  complaining  about,  and  it  is  the  eternal 
plaint  of  writers,  is  my  lack  of  time  in  which  to  write  a 
play  and  a  novel  that  will  sell.  Schopenhauer  was  right 
when  he  said  time  was  precious,  not  money.  For  5 
years  of  leisure  I  would  sell  my  soul;  even  3  years.  But 
as  I  said  in  "Steeplejack"  I'll  die  with  my  boots  on  in 
some  rotten  concert  room  or  at  the  opera.     Qui  sait? 

To  my  surprise  and  also  horror  I  read  a  column  review, 
a  comical  one,  of  "Painted  Veils"  in  last  Sat.  evening's 
Post  (N.  Y.)  in  the  literary  section.  Publicity  is  the  one 
undesirable  thing  for  that  chaste  book  and  Liveright  was 
angered  over  the  event.  Yet  it  sold  many  copies.  1200 
is  the  limit  and  I  signed  the  entire  1200  last  week — a 
loathsome  task. 

And  now  Frida  for  the  musical  fray!  I  begin  to- 
morrow afternoon  at  Carnegie — Damrosch  and  Louise 
Homer!!  Pity  me!  Sunday  Nov.  14  I  print  my  first 
regular  musical  article  in  The  World  (I've  been  running  a 
New  York  City  series  which  ends  with  Sunday)  But 
what  a  doleful  gaspillage !     Kismet  I 

With  love  from  both,  ^  ^ 

JIM 


TO  HENRY  CABOT   LODGE  307 

To  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 

Westminster  Court,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 
My  dear  Senator  Lodge:  ^^^-  3^,  1920 

I  thank  you  for  your  sympathetic  letter.  S.  [**  Steeple- 
jack"] is  a  livre  de  chevet ;  otherwise,  an  indigestible 
mess,  for  it  appeared  serially  and  has  all  the  defects  of 
serial  publication.  I  regret  to  say  that  after  profound 
search  Mrs.  Huneker  found  a  signed  photograph  of 
George.  What  a  pity  I  hadn't  it  in  19 18  when  I  made  up 
the  book  for  the  Scribner's — delayed  a  year  by  the  print- 
ers' strike.  Amazing  to  me  is  the  success;  my  first  big 
seller,  after  all  these  years  !  And  at  the  prohibitive  price 
of  $7.50.  I  am  sorry,  my  dear  Senator,  you  had  to  waste 
good  money.  Enclosed  circular  may  interest  you.  I 
fear  the  book  ["Painted  Veils"] — a  serious  one  I  assure 
you,  despite  some  frills  and  thrills  not  precisely  Rabelais- 
ian, but  enough  to  scare  timid  publishers.  Hence  the 
private  publication.  The  story  is  simply  the  problem  of 
the  deracinated  young  American — my  own  case  (although 
I'm  not  the  sorry  hero)  who  becomes  cosmopolitan  at  the 
cost  of  his  birthright  of  patriotism;  no  unusual  case,  I 
assure.  Theodore  Roosevelt  was  interested  when  I 
spoke  to  him  of  the  scheme,  which  I  planned  for  years 
but  wrote  the  book  in  7  weeks,  78,000  words,  and  with  a 
pen. 

Now  pardon  these  effusions  and  to  more  important 
matters.  Accept,  pray,  my  congratulations  on  the  mag- 
nificent fruition  of  your  work.  If  as  Jeremy  Bentham 
(?)  or  Lincoln  declared  about  the  greatest  good  for  the 
greatest  number  of  people  is  the  noblest  task  of  states- 
manship, then  you  are  the  greatest  figure  in  contempo- 
rary political  history,  and  history  will  do  you  justice. 


3o8    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

And  I  am  only  saying  what  the  world  thinks  and  says: 
even  in  London,  where  I  was  last  summer,  you  not  W.  W. 
[Woodrow  Wilson],  were  the  pivotal  attraction  for  Eng- 
lishmen who  disagreed  with  you.  ...  I  spoke  to 
George,  to  Balfour,  to  the  impossible  Times  proprietor. 
I  know  whereof  I  speak,  though  in  my  letters  to  The 
World  I,  naturally  enough,  did  not  mention  these  things. 
With  time  your  figure  grows  bigger.  I  congratulate  you 
and  confess  to  pride  in  personally  knowing  you  through 

your  letters.  c-         t 

bmcerely,  j  tt 

•^  James  Huneker 

To  Alice  Wade  Mulbern 

This  letter  was  written  to  Miss  Mulhern  in  answer  to  a  letter  ex- 
pressing admiration  of  his  wTitings  and  gratitude  for  the  help  and 
inspiration  they  had  been  to  her.  The  second  letter  followed  upon 
her  note  of  thanks  for  the  first  one. 

Westminster  Court:  1618  Beverly  Road:  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

(adjacent  to  all  the  cemeteries  and  frog  ponds  of 

Darkest  Brooklyn) 

My  dear  Miss  Mulhern:  December  12/20 

There  is  only  one  thing  an  elderly  person  can  do  after 
receiving  such  a  touching  letter  as  yours:  arise,  solemnly 
bow,  wipe  his  glasses  to  remove  the  suspicious  moisture 
and  then  sit  down — and  wish  he  were  25  instead  of  60. 
All  these  things  I  did. 

However  three-score  hath  its  compensations.  One  of 
them  is  when  a  charming  girl  says  such  charming  things 
— even  if  they  be  exaggerated  and  undeserved — I  thank 
you.  And  I  may  add  when  I  wrote  my  little  books  they 
were  written  to  please  myself  without  one  idea  of  an  audi- 
ence— beyond  the  hope  of  the  never  realized  royalties. 
I  enjoyed  myself  and  now  I'm  overjoyed  to  learn  that 


TO  ALICE  WADE  MULHERN  309 

you,  too,  have  enjoyed  yourself.  Luckily  for  all  of  us 
joy  is  a  more  easily  communicable  quality  than  sorrow; 
else — crepe  would  hang  on  every  heart. 

I  do  wish  that  when  you  are  wishing  me  luck  again 
you  may  wish  me  across  the  Atlantic  away  from  noisy 
New  York  and  detestable  musical  criticism.  Both  are 
killing.  That's  the  kind  of  a  fairy-godmother  Tm  look- 
ing for  now-a-days.  But,  then,  I've  been  looking  for  the 
perverse  lady  ever  since  I  was  a  lad.  She  doesn't  even 
send  me  P.  P.  C.  cards !    Again  thanks  and  best  wishes. 

Yours, 

James  Gibbons  Huneker 

Now 
(In  the  enchanted  region  of  Flatbush  because  of  Alice 
in  Wonderland) 
Listen :  But  you  are  the  fairy-godmother,  for  as  I  read 
your  wishes  for  my  prosperity  everything  came  true. 
Your  words  were  winged.  I  inhabit  now  a  palace  with 
masterpieces  on  the  walls,  with  two,  instead  of  one, 
Steinway  grand  pianos.  I'm  young  again.  My  dear 
wife,  whose  hair  was  white,  again  looks  as  young  and 
beautiful  as  she  did  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  Her  hair 
is  Titian  russet  and  she  rides  in  a  Rolls-Royce,  thanks  to 
our  lovely  fairy-godmother  (otherwise,  we  took  the  sub- 
way like  poor  mortals).  And  last,  not  least,  we  saw  our 
fairy  and  we  asked  her  for  her  signed  photograph  and  she 
promised  to  send  it.  Will  she  keep  her  promise? 
In  all  gratitude  from  a  dreamer, 

Jim  the  Penman 


310    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

_  _  Friday,  Dec.  17th,  1920 

Dear  Ben: 

Please  don't  set  it  down  to  neglect,  my  tardy  reply, 
but  Tm  not  only  hideously  busy  but  Fm  weary;  weary 
of  writing,  of  music,  above  all,  of  going  up  and  down 
subway  stairs.  The  actual  writing  I  accomplish  in  a 
week  is  little  as  compared  to  the  fatigue  caused  by  get- 
ting to  and  fro  from  concerts,  the  office  &c;  in  a  word, 
the  enormous  machinery  of  motion  which  clutters  up 
one's  life  in  this  modern  Gehenna  of  a  city. 

Fm  glad  to  hear  you  have  the  novel  ["Painted  Veils"]. 
I  hope  you  will  pierce  the  surface  jesting  and  frankness 
of  speech  and  reach  the  essentially  serious  core — a  bitter 
kernel  of  truth.  The  form  may  puzzle  because  it  is 
elliptical.  But  it  is  not  as  Mencken  says — a  story  that 
rambles;  precisely  the  opposite;  the  form  is  too  "tight" 
if  anything,  too  "arranged,"  too  fugal.  However,  it's 
my  first  long  fiction  and  my  next,  if  I  live  till  next  summer 
will  be  freer,  "looser,"  a  bigger  canvas  altogether. 

As  soon  as  the  horrible  so-called  holidays  are  over  we 
must  meet.  Fetch  P.  V.  ["Painted  Veils"]  with  you  and 
I'll  not  only  write  something  in  it  but  also  make  a  half 
dozen  minor  corrections.  The  proof  was  read  carefully 
and  as  carelessly  corrected.  But  I  shan't  "kick."  It's 
a  handsome  book  and  I  regret  it  can't  be  sold  to  the  gen- 
eral public — just  as  it  is.     (What?) 

With  regards,  As  ever, 

Jim 


TO   BENJAMIN   DE  CASSERES  311 

To  Henry  James,  Jr. 

Westminster  Court 

Dear  Mr.  James:  Dec.  21/20 

Your  letter  made  me  happy.  The  above  address,  my 
residence,  will  fetch  me  those  treasures  of  your  father's. 
I  had  the  personal  mortification  of  being  forced  by  lack 
of  leisure  and  indisposition  to  refuse  the  review  of  the 
"Letters"  for  The  Bookman.  But,  my  God!  they  only 
allowed  me  600  words — to  measure  the  mind  and  achieve- 
ment of  your  father  in  a  pint  measure.  Em  not  sorry  I 
refused,  for  later,  this  spring,  I  shall  tackle  the  task  else- 
where and  with  abundant  elbow  room.  As  much  as  I 
could  recall — ideas,  rather  than  exact  phrases,  I  quoted 
the  letters  of  your  father  in  my  "Steeplejack" — also  paid 
my  humble  tribute  to  the  James  brothers.  As  I  told  you, 
also  William  James,  my  mother  corresponded  with  Henry 
James  Sr.  But  his  answers — and  I  recall  them  as  a  boy 
— I  can't  find.  My  friend  Henry  Cabot  Lodge  was  in- 
terested in  my  remarks  on  your  family.  And  I  do  hope 
you  saw  the  more  elaborate  review  last  May  in  The 
Bookman  of  Henry  James's*  "Letters."  There,  I  had 
room  to  turn  around.  But  that  you  should  have  found 
the  lost — that  is  good  news.  I'm  sincerely  obliged  to 
you  in  the  matter.  Cordially, 

James  Huneker 

To  Benjamin  De  Casseres 

Dec.  25 
My  Dear  Ben:  Christmas  1920 

We  appreciate  the  kind  thought  of  Mrs.  De  Casseres 
and  yourself  and  in  return  wish  you  a  prosperous  New 

*  "  The  Letters  of  Henry  James,"  selected  and  edited  by  Percy  Lubbock,  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons,  1920. 


312    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

Year — there  is  no  more  "happy"  day — and  this  wish 
goes  with  the  conviction  that  you  will  some  day  achieve 
full  recognition  of  your  gifts.  But  my  boy — don't  wish 
for  it  too  soon.  "Give  me  chastity,  but  not  yet  0  Lord !" 
cried  St.  Augustine.  Anticipation  is  always  pleasanter 
than  realization.  When  fame  does  knock  at  your  door 
it  will  not  bring  happiness ;  that  lies  in  things  of  the  heart, 
not  the  head.  Pardon  the  platitudes  of  an  old  man, 
bored,  when  not  disgusted  with  the  humbug  of  appear- 
ances. Thank  you,  too,  for  your  kind  letter.  P.  V. 
["Painted  Veils"]  was  badly  proof-read.  Above  all,  my 
corrections  were  not  made.     Be  good !    Anyhow  careful. 

Cordially,  , 

To  Edward  C.  Marsh 
My  Dear  Edward:  December  26/20 

Your  letter  completely  consoles  me  for  a  wilderness  of 
ineptitudes  spoken  and  written  about  P.  V.  ["Painted 
Veils"].     I  thank  you. 

You  advised  me  20  years  ago  to  write  fiction — or  at 
least  something  like  it.  I  selected  the  most  difficult  of 
all  prose-patterns:  the  elliptical.  P.  V.  is  a  three  voice 
fugue  and  the  three  women  themes  which  are  treated 
fugally  finally  end  in  a  coda  of  despair.  It's  too  jejune, 
that  ending,  but,  consider:  its  the  first  novel  of  a  young 
fellow  of  60. 

I'm  going  to  take  the  liberty  of  letting  Ned  Ziegler  see 
your  letter — no  one  else — so  great  a  store  do  I  set  by 
your  judgment — and  friendship.  Our  orbits  are  bound  to 
collide  some  day.  In  the  interim  accept  our  best  wishes 
for  a  Happy  New  Year  for  you  and  yours. 

Cordially,  j^^^^  Huneker 


TO  JULES  BOIS  313 

To  Mrs.  Gilbert 

This  letter  was  written  to  the  sister  of  one  of  Mr.  Huneker's  old- 
est friends,  Dr.  Edward  Nolan  of  Philadelphia. 

Westminster  Court 

Jan.  10/21 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Gilbert: 

My  brother  John  has  written  me  the  news  of  Edward's 
death  and  while  it  was  not  altogether  unexpected  it  came 
in  the  nature  of  a  shock.  We  all  loved  him.  He  was  a 
rare  character.  He  had  a  commanding  intellect,  and 
something  still  finer,  still  rarer,  a  heart  of  gold.  Mrs. 
Huneker  who  knew  him  well  and  greatly  admired  him, 
joins  me  in  this  expression  of  regret,  a  regret  which  I  as- 
sure you  goes  deeper  than  mere  lip-service.  I'm  glad  to 
remember  Ned,  who  was  a  real  formative  influence  in 
my  life,  as  was  Edward  Roth,  when  I  last  saw  him,  one 
morning  at  the  Academy.  It  was  only  a  few  years  ago. 
He  was  ill  but  nothing  could  dampen  the  natural  buoy- 
ancy, the  indomitable  bravery  of  the  man,  a  noble  soul. 
And  I  rejoice  that  his  devoted  sister  was  with  him  at  the 
last  to  close  his  eyes  and  help  his  soul  with  a  prayer  across 
the  doleful  river.  He  is  surely  with  God.  My  regards 
to  you,  and  to  John. 

Sincerely, 

James  Huneker 


To  Jules  Bois 

Tuesday  Jan  11/21 

My  dear  Jules  Bois 

I  sent  you  the  printed  copy  of  P.  V.  ["Painted  Veils"] 
not  because  I  had  any  hope  that  you  would  change  your 
plan,  but  because  I  wish  to  offer  a  slight  evidence  of  my 


314    LETTERS  OF  JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

esteem,  and  gratitude  for  your  interest  in  the  book.     I'm 

distressed   to   learn  that  you   are  still  suffering.     The 

Emerson  doctrine  of  Compensation  surely  does  not  hold 

good  for  such  a  man  and  exalted  soul  as  you  !    You  hrve 

done  nothing  to  deserve  such  cruel  suffering.     Pray  think 

no  longer  of  my  bouquiuy  and  only  of  your  health.     And 

of  your  own  literary  plans  and  labors.     I  fear  I  shan't  be 

able  to  see  your  friend  when  he  comes.     Every  hour  till 

May  I  St  is  gone!     I'm  up  to  my  eyes  in  disagreeable 

work  and  meet  no  one — horrible  Travail  that  kills  the 

sacred  instinct  in  us,  this  abominable  land  of  the  free ! 

With  every  wish  for  your  recovery  and  prosperity  I 

am  as  Ever  Cordially  ,  tt 

James  Huneker 


INDEX 


A.  E.  (George  Russell),  153 

Abbott,  226 

Abbott,  Dr.  Lyman,  112,  113 

Adam,  Villiers  de  I'lsl^  18 

Adams,  200 

Adams,  Franklin  P.,  174 

Adams  (of  Wolfsohn  Bureau),  243 

Advertiser,  The  Morning,  212 

Aldrich,  Richard,  letters  to:  9,  55-56, 
96,  222-223,  233-234;  mentioned: 
266,  285 

Alvary,  288 

American  Jewish  News,  279 

Ansorge,  32 

Archer,  William,  36 

Artzibashev,  175,  180,  192,  194 

Ashforth,  Albert,  196 

Ashforth,  Arthur,  157 

Ashforth,  Madame  Frida,  letters  to:  6, 
II,  16,  49,  62-63,  91,  122,  156-157. 
165, 195-196,  236-238,  246-247,  260- 
261,  276-277,  278-279,  280-281,  304, 
305-306;  mentioned:  275,  300 

Asquith,  Herbert,  173 

Atlantic  Monthly,  The,  66,  69 

Auer,  243 

Augustine,  Saint,  312 

Bach,  Johann  Sebastian,  93,  230,  236, 
272 

Bachmann,  Waldemar.  See  de  Pach- 
mann 

Bahr,  Herman,  150 

Balfour,  Sir  James,  308 

Balzac,  78,  94,  201 

Barili,  Alfred,  letters  to:  3-4,  5;  men- 
tioned: 274,  283 

Barili,  Mme.  Emily,  letter  to:  274-275 

Barili,  Henry,  274 

Barrfis,  Maurice,  65,  66,  68,  69 

Barrie,  Sir  James,  297 

Barrymore,  Lionel,  231 

Baudelaire,  Charles,  80,  88-90, 282, 296 


Beadleston,  132 

Beamish,  Richard,  250 

Beardsley,  Aubre^',  98 

Becque,  Henri  B.,  18 

Bedouins,  280,  281,  285,  286,  288,  292, 

293,  298 
Beecham,  Sir  Thomas,  297 
Beerbohm,  Max,  97 
Beethoven,  93,  164,  220,  230,  235,  272 
B61art,  Hans,  128,  129 
Belasco,  David,  277,  297 
Bell,  Clive,  204 
Bell,  Hilary,  10 

Bell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James,  144 
Bennett,  Arnold,  242,  295 
Bennett,  James  Gordon,  130 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  307 
Bergson,  Henri,  134,  137,  140,  148,  150, 

152,  221 
Berlioz,  27,  135 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,  241 
Bible,  The,  175 
Blake,  67 

Bless,  Arthur,  14,  15,  133 
Bloomfield,  Fan,  130 
Blumenberg,  Marc  A.,  132,  211 
Blumenberg,  Mrs.  Marc  A.,  132 
Blumenfeld,  R.,  32,  130 
Bodanzky,  288 
Boieldieu,  66 
Bois,  Jules  ,  letters   to:  267,  268-273, 

283-285,    296-297,    323-314;    »^e"' 

tioned:  283,  293-295 
Bookhuyer,  The,  156 
Bookman,  The,  48,  65,  291,  292,  311 
Bosendorfer,  15 
Botticelli,  86 
Bouguereau,  204 
Bourget,  Paul,  88 
Bowman,  229 

Boyesen,  Prof.  H.  H.,  36,  211 
Bragdon,  Claude,  225 
Brahms,  35,  105,  230,  291 


315 


INDEX 


Brancusi,  208 

Brandes,  George,  36,  164,  208 

Bridges,  Robert,  254 

Brooks,  Edmund,  loi 

Brownell,  W.  C,  letters  to:  88-90,  100- 
loi,  113-115,  138-140. 144-146,  174- 
176,  180-181,  182,  188-191;  men- 
tioned: 133,  155 

Browning,  Robert,  200,  280 

Bryan,  Dictionary  of  Painters,  77 

Bryan,  William  Jennings,  1 89 

Bulletin,  Philadelphia  Evening,  21 1 

Bunyan,  John,  106 

Burck,  Henry,  220 

Burgess,  Gelett,  40 

Burlingame,  E.  L.,  89 

Burmeister,  Richard,  30,  83 

Buttel-Reepen,  Prof.  H.  V.,  161 

Calonne,  77 

Calve,  Emma,  238,  245 

Campanini,  141 

Canfield,  Richard,  177 

Cannon,  Uncle  Joe,  130 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  88,  211,  280 

Carra,  139 

Carreno,  Teresita,  237 

Carrol  (of  the  Sun),  124 

Caruso,  Enrico,  157,  237,  238,  245 

Cary,  Miss,  207 

Casseres.     See  De  Casseres 

Century,  The,  60,  65,  66,  73,  139,  143, 

169 
Cezanne,  Paul,  76,  147,  204,  205,  291 
Chabaud,  Auguste,  151 
Chamberlain,  Harry,  32,  130 
Chambers,  Robert,  168,  169 
Chapman  &  Hall,  141 
Chardin,  139 

Chase,  William  M.,  79,  145,  149,  256 
Chester,  Montague,  132 
Chesterton,  Gilbert,  140,  156,  295 
Chilton,  141 
Chopin,  Frederic  Frangois,  25,  46,  59, 

93,  105,  209,  228,  241 
Chopin:  The  Man  and  His  Music,  33, 

37,  59,  126,  133,  143,  149.  152,  153. 

156,  158,  159.  188,  212,  240,  270,  290, 

294,  296 
Chronicle,  the  London,  202 
Claretie,  Jules,  133 


Clarke,  Joseph  I.  C,  217 

Cleveland,  190 

Cobb,  Frank,  293 

Cod6,  N.,  27 

Cohn,  Dr.,  119 

Colby,  Bainbridge,  294 

Conrad,  Joseph,  98,  140,  143,  145,  156, 

167-169,  171,  172,  175,  178,  206,  218, 

219,  240,  242,  295 
Conried,  44,  45,  73 
Cooper,  229 
Corbin,  John,  39 
Corot,  204 
Cortissoz,  Royal,  letters  to:  95, 123, 204- 

205,  263-264,  275-276;  mentioned:  g, 

109 
Courier,  The  Musical,  210-212,  273 
Cowper,  223 
Craigie,  Mrs.,  47 
Crane,  Stephen,  210 
Craven,  Jim,  248,  249 
Crone,  264 
Curie,  Richard,  171,  173 

d'AgouIt,  Countess,  52 

d'Albert,  32,  35,  146 

Dale,  Alan,  38 

Damrosch,  Frank,  45 

Damrosch,  Walter,  80,  243,  306 

Dana,  Charles  A.,  13,  117 

D'Annunzio,  Gabriele,  18 

Dante,  269 

Darwin,  Charles,  162 

Davies,   Arthur   B.,  letter  to:   86-87; 

mentioned:   87,   145,   185,  204,  206, 

207,  210,  243,  244 
Debussy,  Claude,  76,  83,  131,  181,  183, 

184,  248 
De  Casseres,  Benjamin,  letters  to:  85- 

86,  106,  I33-I34»  148,  230-231,  265, 

281-282,  290,  292-293, 299-300, 303- 

304,310,  3H-312 
Degas,  Edgar,  210 
de  Goncourt,  Jules,  190 
de  Goncourts,  the,  18 
de  Gourmont,  Remy,  15,  100,  189,  230, 

265,  270,  272,  273 
Dehmel,  R.,  32 
Dekker,  257 
de  Kock,  Paul,  68 
de  Koven,  Reginald,  73 


INDEX 


317 


de  Lanza,  La  Marquise,  letters  to:  241- 

242,  305 
De  Maupassant,  Guy,  180 
de  Pachmann,  Vladimir,  132,  209,  228 
De  Quincy,  221 
de  Reszke,  Edouard,  44,  245 
de  Reszke,  Jean,  44,  245 
De  Vries,  Hugo,  160-162 
Dial,  The,  211 
Dickens,  Charles,  49 
Diderot,  88 

Dithmar,  Edward  A.,  152,  233 
Ditrichstein,  Leo,  207,  288 
Ditrichstein,  Mrs.  Josephine,  letter  to: 

288-289 
Doehler,  228 
Donnay,  124 
Donnelly,  70 
Dore,  15 
Dostoievski,  49,  168-172, 175, 176,  178, 

189,  192,  205 
Dowling,  Victor,  291 
Dowson,  112 

Dreiser,  Theodore,  169,  210,  220 
Driggs,  7 
Dufy,  291 
Duse,  Eleanora,  18 
Dussek,  128 

Eames,  Mrs.  Emma,  letters  to:  157- 
158,  245-246;  mentioned:  300 

Easton,  Florence,  237,  238 

Eaton,  Walter  Pritchard,  letters  to:  21- 
22,  37-39 

Echegaray,  38 

Edmunds,  Ralph,  73 

Egoists,  94-97,  100,  104,  270 

Elgar,  131 

El  Greco,  87,  99,  III 

Elliott,  Hugh,  295 

Elliott,  Maxine,  164 

Ellis,  128 

Ellis,  Havelock,  14,  131,  295 

Ellis,  Mary,  281 

Elman,  Mischa,  243 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  89,  96,  202, 

314 
Epstein,  208,  210 
Erome,  128 

Etude,  The,  3-5,  108,  135,  184 
Everybody's  Magazine,  67,  69 


Farrar,  Geraldine,  237 

F6vrier,  268 

Finck,  Henry  T.,  20,  27,  56,  83 

Flaubert,  Gustave,  66,  171,  172,  211, 

215,  217,  236,  247,  268,  270 
Fletcher,  Book  of  Beauty,  no 
Flinsch,  223,  224 
Floersheira,  Otto,  132,  255 
Flotow,  255 

Foerster-Nietzsche,  Elizabeth,  30,  33 
Forum,  The,  63,  137,  148, 150,  152,  169, 

189,  192,  202 
France,  Anatole,  55,  164,  267,  270,  273 
Fremstad,  Olive,  7,  8,  79, 132,  141,  277, 

278 
Friedheim,  120 
Friesz,  147 

Frohman,  Charles,  41 
Fuller,  Henry  B.,  letter  to:  247-248; 

mentioned:  210 
Gabrilowitsch,  Mrs.  Ossip,  196 
Gabrilowitsch,  Ossip,  196,  249,  268 
Galli,  139 

Galli-Curci,  246,  247,  249,  250,  277 
Gallica,  Paolo,  222 
Galsworthy,  John,  141,  164,  168,  172, 

257,  295,  297 
Garden,  Mary,  142,  281,  289,  290 
Gardner,  Mrs.  Jack,  71 
Garnett,  Mrs.  Constance,  169,  170 
Garvin,  John,  156 
Gates,  Lucy,  246,  277 
Gauguin,  147,  204,  286 

Gaultier,  Jules,  134 

Gautier,  Th^ophile,  190,  270 

G6ricault,  115 

Gericke,  13 

Gerould,  Katharine  Fullerton,  169 

Gest,  Morris,  297 

Gibbons,  Cardinal  James,  17,  190 

Gibbons,  James  (grandfather  of  au- 
thor), 94,  190,  212,  228 

Gigoux,  78 

Gilbert,  Mrs.,  letter  to:  313 

Gilbert,  W.  S.,  24,  297 

Gilman,  Lawrence,  letters  to:  128-129, 
181,  183-184,  214-215,  290-291 

Glackens,  185 

Globe,  the  New  York,  228,  289 

Gluck,  223 


3i8 


INDEX 


Godowsky,  209 

Goethe,  3»-33,  96,  272,  279,  301 

Gogh.     See  Van  Gogh 

Gogorza,  Madame,  246 

Goldman,  Emma,  40 

Goldmark,  48 

Gomez,  Signor,  149 

Goncourt.     See  de  Goncourt 

Gorki,  Maxim,  18,  180 

Gounod,  Charles,  158,  261 

Gourmont.     See  de  Gourmont 

Goya,  84 

Greco.     See  El  Greco 

Gregg,  Frederic  James,  letter  to:  112- 
113;  mentioned:  53,  54,  69,  73,  75,  79, 
93,  97,  loi,  III,  112,  147,  152-154. 
163,  167,  172,  184,  185,  193,  199,  208, 

293 
Grieg,  Edvard,  181 
Guard,  William  J.,  236 
Guilbert,  Yvette,  18 

Hale,  Irene,  56 

Hale,  Philip,  letter  to:  302-303 

Hammerstein,  Oscar,  85 

Hanslick,  12 

Hardy,  Thomas,  98,  172 

Harland,  Henry,  221 

Harned,  Miss,  22 

Harper's  Bazaar,  17 

Harper's  Magazine,  140,  190 

Harper's  Weekly,  134 

Harrell,  Lonta,  155 

Hart,  266 

Harvey,  Colonel  George,  189 

Harzof,  112 

Hatch,  Lewis,  175 

Hauptmann,  Gerhart,  18,  32,  48 

Heifetz,  Jascha,  243 

Heine,  Heinrich,  30,  241,  272 

Heinemann,  169 

Heinrich,  Julia,  302 

Heller,  228 

Hempel,  Frieda,  237 

Henderson,  William  J.,  10,  20,  69,  70, 

222 
Herald,  the  New  York,  56,  70,  71,  73, 

79,  130.  152 
Herbert,  Victor,  217 
Hertz,  142 
Herz,  80,  228 


Hichens,  Robert,  98 

Hinton,  James,  226 

Hoff,  Mrs.,  280 

Hofmann,  Josef,  73,  135 

Hohenlohe,  Prinz,  12 

Holland  (son  of  Oscar  Wilde),  163 

Homer,  Louise,  306 

Howells,  William  Dean,  248,  299 

Hubbard,  Elbert,  182 

Hughes,  Rupert,  letters  to:  168,  173- 
174,  215-217;  mentioned:  169 

Hugo,  Victor,  20 

Hummel,  76,  228 

Humperdinck,  47 

Huneker,  John  (grandfather  of  author), 
212 

Huneker,  John  (brother  of  author),  109, 
112,  144,  248,  313 

Huneker,  Mrs.  James  Gibbons,  7,  12, 
24,  34,  42,  51,  55,  64,  65,  67,  68,  71, 
72,  80,  83,  90,  91,  116,  121,  132,  140, 
142,  164,  249,  250, 275, 277-283,  288, 

290,  309,  313 
Huysmans,  Joris  Karl,  65-67,  131,  267, 
271,  273 

Ibsen,  13,  18,  20,  25,  26,  32,  33,  36,  39, 

55,  83,  211 
Ibsen,  Doctor,  116 
Iconoclasts,  38,  39,  47,  114,  182,  212, 

296 
International  Studio,  The,  60 
Irving,  Washington,  280 
"Israfel,"  175 
Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks,  174-176,  180, 

188,  198,  199,  202,  204-206,  208,  212, 

218,  219 

Jaeger,  36,  37 

James,  Henry,  82,  88,  90,  172,  187,  194, 

225,244,  248,  254,291,  311 
James,  Henry,  Jr.,  letters  to:  244,  311 
James,  William,  244,  311 
John,  Augustus,  152,  163,  164,  178,  206, 

208,  210,  286 
Johnson,  260 
Johnson,  Owen,  168,  169 
Jordan,  Miss  Elizabeth,  letters  to:  17, 

25-26 
Josef,  Kaiser,  12 


INDEX 


319 


Joseflfy,  Rafael,  20,  92,  105,  188,  196, 

228,  240 
Journal,  the  New  York  Evening,  73 
Jowett,  Benjamin,  192 
Judge,  299 

Kappers,  Dr.  C.  U.  Ariens,  letters  to: 
120-121,  159-163 

Keats,  John,  175 

Kelley,  Commander,  70 

Kellogg,  Clara  Louise,  6 

Kelly,  Monsignor,  296,  297 

Kendrick,  Beryl,  282 

Kisler,  76 

Knobloch,  Edward,  277 

Kock.     See  de  Kock 

Koven,     See  de  Koven 

Krans,  H.,  106 

Krehbiel,  Henry  E.,  letters  to:  10,  22- 
25,  26-27,  29-32,  36-37,  44-45,  51- 
52,  232-233,  235-236,  255-256,  279- 
280;  mentioned:  20,  38,  55,  122,  128, 
223,  233,  264 

Kreisler,  Fritz,  132,  268 

Kryzanowski,  31 

Kufferath,  Parsifal,  20 

Kuhn,  185,  208 

La  Bruyere,  84 

Lachaise,  Gaston,  291 

La  Farge,  John,  82,  109,  204 

Laffan,  William  M.,  28,  69,  72,  73,  75, 

84,  87,  107,  130 
Laforgue,  Jules,  189,  240,  273 
Lamb,  Charles,  280 
Lambert,  Dr.  Alexander,  letter  to:  268 
Lamoureux,  77 
Lancaster,  Sir  E.  Ray,  295 
Landor,  Walter  Savage,  201 
Lane,  Hugh,  153,  163 
Lanza.     See  de  Lanza. 
Larkin,  Jim,  163 
Lassalle,  245 

Lawson,  Ernest,  185,  206-208,  210 
Lehmann,  Elsa,  150 
Lehmann,  Lilli,  31,  288 
Lehmann,  Lisa,  245 
Leifels,   Felix  F.,  letters  to:  220-221, 

223-224 
Lemordant,  276 


Leon,  238 

Lerberghe.     See  Van  Lerberghe 

Leroux,  268 

Leschetizky,  Theodor,  130,  203,  285 

Lever,  Charles,  164 

Levi,  255 

Lev>',  Dr.  Oscar  B.,  102 

Lewis,  44 

Liebermann,  137,  139,  142 

Lightcap,  Lemuel  H.,  71 

Liliencron.     See  von  Liliencron 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  262,  307 

Lincoln,  C.  M.,  301,  302 

Linnaeus,  160 

Lippincott's  Magazine,  251 

Liszt,  Franz,  27,  30,  32,  33,  35,  44,  51, 
52,  83,  120,  122,  129,  211,  220 

Liszt,  Franz  (biography),  42,  49,  60,  72, 
82,  83,  94,  96,  108-111, 114, 118,  123, 
130,  131,  143,  282 

Liveright,  Horace,  283,  287,  306 

Livermore,  Bill,  254 

Lloyd  George,  David,  140,  143,  308 

Lodge,  George  Cabot,  196,  197,  200, 
201,  262,  307 

Lodge,  Henry  Cabot,  letters  to:  196- 
198,  199-201,  262,  307-308;  men- 
tioned: 264,  291,  311 

Lodge,  Sir  Oliver,  160,  161 

Loeffler,  Charles  Martin,  132,  181,  183 

London,  Jack,  105 

Lord,  Chester  S.,  68,  124,  150,  248 

Lorimer,  90 

Lorme,  Frau  Lola,  127,  155,  213,  294 

Lubbock,  Percy,  311 

Luby,  143 

Liichow,  22 

Ludovici,  102 

Luks,  George,  185,  207,  208,  210 

Lund,  Jack,  254 


McCloy,  W.  C,  69,  73,  143 
MacDowell,  Edward  A.,  210 
MacDowells,  the,  132 
McFadden,  141,  163 
McFee,  William,  220 
MacKenzie,  Compton,  164 
McLennan,  Francis,  238 
Maeterlinck,  Mme.  Georgette,  284 


320 


INDEX 


Maeterlinck,  Maurice,  14,  18,  25,  26, 
131,  184,  208,  211,  237,  270,  273,  284 

Magers,  250,  253,  266 

Mahler,  31,  79,  80,  215 

Mail,  The,  39 

Mallon,  George  B.,  70 

Manet,  Edouard,  iii,  163,  210 

March,  Alden,  letters  to :  229-230,  234- 
235,  242-244,  248-254,  259-260,  263, 
266;  mentioned:  262 

March,  General  Peyton  C,  262 

Marchesi,  16 

Marinetti,  148 

Marlnuzzi,  289 

Markham,  225 

Marlowe,  Christopher,  175 

Marquis,  Don,  230 

Marsh,  Edward  Clark,  letters  to:  40-41, 
48-49,  61,  63-64,  93-94.  102-106, 
iio-ni,  155-156,  168-171,  205-206, 
312 

Martin,  John,  59,  61 

Martin,  Ricardo,  234 

Mascagni,  238 

Masefeld,  John,  156 

Mathias;  George,  77,  212 

Matisse,  Henri,  137,  140,  143,  145,  181, 
184,  210,  239 

Matzenauer,  Marguerite,  234 

Maugham,  Somerset,  286 

Maurel,  M.  Victor,  85,  245 

Mazarin,  141 

Melba,  Nellie,  157,  245 

Melotnaniacs,  46,  162,  213,  226,  273, 
293,  296 

Meltzer,  Charles  Henry,  73 

Mencken,  Henry  L.,  letters  to:  179-180, 
185-187, 190-192, 195,  202-203,  209- 
213,  217-220,  231-232,  239, 291-292, 
301-302;  mentioned:  162,  300,  302, 

304,  310 
Mendelssohn,  Felix,  45,  76,  228 
Mengelberg,  136 
Menter,  Sofie,  120 
Mercure  de  France,  270 
Meredith,  George,  172 
Metcalf,  Willard,  276 
Metropolitan  Magazine,  125,  137,  139, 

143,  145,  148,  150,  152 
Metropolitan  Museum  Bulletin,  60 
Meyerbeer,  158,  255 


Meynell,  Wilfred  and  George,  164 

Meysenderf,  Baronin  V.,  30 

Mezzotints,  33 

Mielatz,  176 

Mildenberg,  Anna,  31,  142 

Milozzi,  44 

Mirbeau,  Octave,  273 

Mirror,  Reedy's,  148 

Mitchell,  Edward,  P.,  letters  to:  58-59, 

62,  67-68,  74,  77-78,  80-82,  84-85, 

87-88,99,107-108,142-144,221-222, 

227;  mentioned:  69,  73 
MoliSre,  88 
Mollock,  221,  222 
Monahan,  Michael,  96,  207 
Monet,  Claude,  210 
Monticelli,  6l 
Moodys,  the,  79 
Moore,  Col.  Maurice,  241 
Moore,  George,  55,  97,  98,  163,  167, 

170,  190,  241,  242,  251,  257,  288,  295, 

305 
More,  Paul  Elmer,  96,  97 
Moritz,  15 

Morning  Advertiser,  The,  38 
Morse,  Edwin  W.,  letters  to:  18-21,  46- 

47,  60-61,  82-84,  96-97 
Moscheles,  228 
Moussorgsky,  171,  184 
Mozart,  7,  158,  232 
Mulhern,  Alice  Wade,  letters  to:  308- 

309 
Muller,  George,  143,  149,  153 
Murphy,  163 
Muzio,  Claudia,  236 

Nathan,  George  Jean,  180,  186-188, 
191,  203,  213,  232,  254,  302 

Neilson,  Francis,  132 

Neupert,  Edmund,  5 

New  Cosmopolis,  The,  182-185, 202,  270 

New  Laokoon,  The,  104 

Newman,  Cardinal,  211,  280 

Newman,  Ernest,  14 

Newman,  Jakob,  280 

Nietzsche,  Friedrich,  24,  33,  58,  102, 
103,  149,  198,  211,  214,  225,  272 

Nikisch,  Arthur,  13,  150,  255 

Nolan,  Dr.  Edward  J.,  letters  to:  53-54, 
92-93;  mentioned:  313 


INDEX 


321 


Nordau,  Max,  175,  176,  189,  202 

Norris,  Frank,  210 

North  American  Review,  The,  55,  65,  67, 

171,  189,  214,  219,  230 
Novelli,  8 

O'Brien,  Jack,  231 

"Old  Fogy,"  127,  128,  135,  137 

O'Leary,  12 

Ornstein,  183 

Orpen,  Sir  William,  164 

Overtones,  17-20,  33,  82 

Pachmann.     See  de  Pachmann 
Paderewski,  Ignace,  44,  130,  228,  229 
Paganini,  228 
Painted  Veils,  280,  281,  286-288,  290, 

293-296,  303,  304,  306,  307,  310-314 
Pall  Mall,  The,  156 
Parmentier,  Florian,  270 
Parnell,  163 
Parsons,  264 
Pascal,  198 

Pater,  Walter,  103,  104,  106,  in,  191 
Pathos  of  Distance,  The,  144,  145,  148, 

149,  155.  168,  175.  197,  198 
Patti,  Adelina,  3,  274,  275,  282,  283, 

300 
Patti,  Carlotta,  274 
Paur,  15 

Payne,  G.  M.,  70 
Payne,  William  Morton,  211 
P^ladan,  Sar,  271 
Perkins,   Maxwell  E.,  Utters  to:  298, 

300-301 
Phillip,  Isidore,  76 
Phillips,  4  ^ 

Picasso,  III,  210 
Pillsbury,  144 
Pinero,  Arthur,  18,  38 
Piper,  Mrs.,  40 
Piranesi,  58,  59,  67 
Pius  X,  Pope,  45 
Pizarro,  31 
Plangon,  245 
Plant6,  Francois,  76 
Plaschinger,  Thila,  31 
Poe,  Edgar  Allan,  88-90,  180,  211 
Pollard,  Percival,  209,  210 
Ponselle,  Rosa,  288 
Post,  The  Morning,  202 


Post,  the  New  York  Evening,  56,  97, 

152,  306 
Prendergast,  185,  210 
Press,  the  New  York,  56 
Press,  the  Philadelphia,  230,  232-235, 

237,  248-255,  259-264,  266,  274,  292 
Presser,  Theodore,  letters  to:  108-109, 

127-128,   135-136,  238;  mentioned: 

137 
Prokofieff,  Serge,  279 
Promenades  of  an  Impressionist,  60,  61, 

100,  147 
Prybyzewski,  220 
Puck,  167-169,  178,  181,  183,  203,  204, 

215-217,  219 
Pugno,  76 

Pulitzer,  Joseph,  294 
Pulvermacher,  80 
Punch,  275 
Puvis,  153,  175,  206 

Quinn,  John,  letters  to :  97-98, 101,11 1- 
112,  147-148,  151-154,  163-164,  167, 
171-173.  177-178,  184-185,  192-194, 
198-199,  201-202,  206-209,  239-240, 
285-286,  291,  293-295;  mentioned: 
68,  267,  300 

Rabelais,  271 

Racowitza.  See  Von  Racowitza 

Rappold,  Marie,  47 

Rascoe,  Burton,  287 

Reamer,  Laurence,  70 

Recorder,  the  Philadelphia,  38,  212 

Redon,  293 

Reedy,  William  Marion,  letter  to :  41-42 

Reick,  143 

Reid,  Sir  Archdall,  103 

Reid,  Whitelaw,  264 

Renoir,  Auguste,  185,  243 

Repplier,  Agnes,  169,  170 

Reszke.     See  de  Reszke 

Review,  The,  14,  15 

Rice,  Isaac,  202 

Richardson,  Harry,  248,  249 

Richter,  Hans,  131,  255 

Rigaud,  Hyacinthe,  85 

Ritter,  Theodore,  77 

Roberts,  Dr.,  71 

Rodin,  Auguste,  62,  131,  175,  239 


322 


INDEX 


Roeder,  Benjamin,  letters  to:  277-278, 
297 

Romann,  Lina,  35 

Romney,  108 

Roosevelt,  Theodore,  85,  106,  130,  199, 
201,  202,  209,  286,  302,  307 

Root,  Elihu,  294 

Rops,  Felicien,  77,  185 

Rosebault,  Charles  J.,  letters  to :  28,  32- 
33.  39,  52-53,  64-67,  68-70,  72-73, 
75-77,  90,  92, 1 15-120, 124-127, 129- 
130,  146,  148-151;  mentioned:  13 

Rosebault,  Mrs.  Charles  J.,  69,  76,  92, 
119,  120,  130 

Rosen,  243 

Rosenthal,  15 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel,  158,  200 

Rossini,  29,  158,  220 

Roth,  Edward,  313 

Roualt,  291 

Rubinstein,  Anton,  146,  228 

Runciman,  John,  14,  149 

Ruskin,  John,  50 

Russell,  George  ("A.  E."),  153 

Ryder,  Albert  P.,  87,  105 

Sachs.    See  Von  Sachs 

Saint-GauJens,  Augustus,  84 

Saint-Saens,  Camille,  77 

Saknussemm,"  "Arne,  105 

Saltus,  Edgar,  265 

Sanborn,  Pitts,  letters  to :  228-229,  289 

Sand,  George,  262 

Sandler,  279,  280 

Sardou,  13 

Saturday  Review,  London,  97,  149,  156, 

163 
Scherer,  Etudes  sur  la  Litterature  Con- 

temporaine,  88 
Schiller,  31 
Schillings,  142 
Schopenhauer,  Arthur,  24,  86,  160,  190, 

272,  306 
Sc  'abin,  183 

Scribner,  Arthur  H.,  letter  to:  299 
Scribner's  Magazine,  55,  62,  65,   iii, 

118,  139,  143,  169,  204 
Scribner's  Sons,  Charles,  18,  19,  82,  86, 

95,  182,  199,  231-233,  240,  292,  299, 

306 
Seidl,  Anton,  31,  223,  255,  288 


Shakespeare,  164,  175,  214,  215 

Shannon,  Father,  296 

Shaw,  George  Bernard,  14,  18,  23,  24, 

55,  93,  131,  132,  140,  156,  164,  168, 

172,  211,  242,  261,  263,  286,  295 
Simone,  124 
Sloan,  John,  210 
Smart  Set,  The,  40,  60, 65, 162,  179, 186, 

188,  191,  218 
Smetana,  44 

Smith,  T.  R.,  letters  to:  282-283,  287 
Spanuth,  23,  73,  118,  120,  137,  140 
Spectator,  The,  208 
Spingarn,  152 
Stahr  sisters,  30 
Starr,  Frances,  278 
Stedman,  Edmund  Clarence,  89 
Steeplejack,  234,  250,  251,  266,  284, 286, 

293,  298-300,  302-307,  311 
Stein,  Madame,  243 
Stendhal,  Henry  Beyle,  62,  65,  81,  82, 

100,  247 
Stephens,  James,  164 
Stern,  Daniel,  52 
Stevenson,  E.  I.  Prime,  15 
Stirner,  68 
Stokowski,  249 
Stransky,  221,  223,  255 
Straus,  Nathan,  Jr.,  168 
Strauss,  Richard,  15,  17,  25,  27,  29,  32, 

37,  56,  57,  83,  131,  132,  139-143,  158. 

221,  236 
Strindberg,  18,  33,  134 
Strube,  218 
Strunsky,  168 
Stuck,  Franz,  7,  14 
Stucken,  see  Van  der  Stucken 
Sturgis,  Russell,  59 
Sudermann,  Hermann,  150 
Sun  and  New  York  Herald,  The,  293, 301 
Sun,  the  New  York,  15,  16,  28,  39,  41, 

42,  50,  56,  60-63,  66-70,  74,  78,  81, 

83,  84,  97,  99,  107,  108,  115,  117,  143, 

144,  147,  150,  175,  176,  185,  210,  212, 
219,  246,  248,  265,  302 

Sullivan,  Arthur,  297 

Sully,  Thomas,  68 

Svencenzski,  13 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles,  40,  200 

Symons,  Arthur,  14,  loi,  131,  132,  141, 

145,  220,  295 


INDEX 


323 


Symons,  Rhoda,  164 
Synge,  152 

Taft,  William  Howard,  130 

Tales,  49 

Tapper,  Thomas,  132 

Taylor,  Bayard,  89 

Tchekoff,  49 

Telegraph,  The,  185 

Temina,  Milka,  8,  15,  132,  245 

Thackeray,  William  Makepiece,  181 

Thalberg,  228 

Thomas,  A.,  158 

Thomas,  A.  E.,  38 

Thomas,  Theodore,  223,  224 

Thompson,  Vance,  13,  104,  174,  217, 
299 

Times,  the  New  York,  56,  140,  141, 
143-147,  157-159,  172,  192,  195, 199, 
203,  207,  212,  218,  219,  229,  243,  262, 
265,  267,  281,  284,  285,  299 

Tolstoy,  49,  169,  171,  172,  175,  180,  189 

Tragic  Wall,  The,  18,  20 

Tree,  Beerbohm,  164,  214,  215 

Tribune,  the  Chicago,  287 

Tribune,  the  New  York,  27,  78,  97, 
174,  235,  264 

Turgenev,  171,  172,  180 

Unicorns,  230,  232,  236,  237,  244,  270 
Untermyer,  S.  P.,  50 

Valloton,  180,  189,  190 

Van  Anda,  C.  V.,  256 

Van  der  Stucken,  80 

Van  Gogh,  204 

Van  Lerberghe,  Charles,  184 

Vauvenargues,  84 

Velasquez,  99 

Vermeer,  Jan,  138,  139,  143,  145,  153, 

181 
Verne,  Jules,  105 
Vernon,  Granville,  letter  to:  254-255; 

mentioned:  233 
Visionaries,  46,  48,  52,  53,  56,  87,  163, 

212,  213,  226,  270,  273,  284,  293 
Vizetelly,  170 
Vogrich,  Max,  32 
von  Billow,  Cosima,  30,  128 
von  Liliencron,  Detler,  32 
Von  Racowitza,  Helene,  104 


Von  Sachs,  116 
Von  Wildenbruch,  32 

Wagner,  Cosima.    See  von  Biilow 

Wagner,  Minna,  128 

Wagner,  Richard,  3,  5,  7,  16,  20,  21,  27, 

29,  30,  108,  128,  129,  158,  164,  255 
Waldo,  249 
Waller,  175 
Walters,  Eugene,  93 
Wanamaker,  Rodman,  233,  237,  262 
Wedekind,  Frank,  147,  150,  153 
Weekly  Critical  Review,  14,  133 
Weil,  Otto,  57,  79,  92,  132 
Wells,  H.  G.,  140,  145,  172,  295 
Wesendonck,  Mathilde,  128,  129 
Wesendonck,  Otto,  128,  129 
West,  Rebecca,  248 
Wetzlar,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  H.,  132 
Wharton,  Mrs.  Edith,  46,  47,  189 
WTiishaw,  170 

WTiistler,  James  McNeil,  50 
White  (of  The  Herald),  70 
Whitman,  Stephen  French,  215,  217 
Whitman,  Walt,  202 
Wickersham,  George  Woodward,  199, 

262 
Widener,  P.  A.  B.,  201 
Wider,  155,  197 
Wilde,  Oscar,  56,  112,  163 
Wildenbruch.     See  Von  Wildenbruch 
Wilkinson,  Louis,  218 
Williams,  Cora,  letter  to :  224-226 
Williams,  Dr.,  292 
Williams,  John  D.,  letter  to:  231 
Wilson,  Woodrow,  262,  308 
Wilstach,  Frank  J.,  letters  to:  240-241, 

256-257 
Winter,  William,  10,  37-39,  235,  264 
Wittgenstein,  Countess  Seyn,  52 
Woerz,  132 

Wolfsohn,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry,  132 
World,  the  New  York,  71,  73,  143,  285, 

293,  294,  298,  301,  303,  304,  306,  308 
Wormley,  Miss,  78 
Wright,  Katharine,  288 
Wright,  Willard  Huntington,  204,  214 

Ybarra,  266 

Yeats,  William  Butler,  38,  97,  98,  167, 
241 


324  INDEX 

Young,  Brigham,  246  Zelocco,  222 

Ysaye  brothers,  228,  229,  242  Ziegler,  Edward  E.,  letters  to:  7-8,  11- 

15,  34-35,  42-44,  47-48,  50,  56-57, 

Zangwill,  Israel,  202  l^J^'  79-8o»  J3I-I33,  136-138.  140- 

-7  •^      ^       ■    V,1       /•.,  ^42;mentioned:  72,^2,103,  111,  178, 

Zeisler,  Fannie  Bloomfield,  52  233,  312                ^>  yo,     j,       ,    /  , 

Zeisler,  Sigmund,  53  Zola,  Emile,  283 


BOOKS     BY     JAMES     HUNEKER 


What  some  distinguished  writers  have  said  of  them : 

Maurice  Maeterlinck  wrote,  May  15,  1905:  "Do  you  know 
that  '  Iconoclasts '  is  the  only  book  of  high  and  universal  critical 
-R'orth  that  we  have  had  for  years — to  be  precise,  since  Georg 
Brandes.  It  is  at  once  strong  and  fine,  supple  and  firm,  indul- 
gent and  sure." 

And  of  "Ivory  Apes  and  Peacocks"  he  said,  among  other 
things:  "I  have  marvelled  at  the  \agilance  and  clarity  with 
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ments in  all  countries.  I  do  not  know  of  criticism  more  pure 
and  sure  than  yours."    (October,  191 5.) 


"The  Mercure  de  France  translated  the  other  day  from  Scrib- 
ner's  one  of  the  best  studies  which  have  been  wTitten  on  Stendhal 
for  a  long  time,  in  which  there  was  no  evasion  of  the  question 
of  Stendhal's  unmorality.  The  author  of  that  article,  James 
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Paul  Bourget  wrote,  Lundi  de  Paques,  1909,  of  "Egoists"; 
"I  have  browsed  through  the  pages  of  your  book  and  foimd 
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Dr.  Georg  Brandes,  the  versatile  and  profound  Danish  critic, 
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BOOKS     BY    JAMES    HUNEKER 

LETTERS  OF 
JAMES  GIBBONS  HUNEKER 

These  letters  have  all  the  brilliance  of  his  essays,  but  a  greater 
spontaneity  and  if  possible  a  more  vivid  spirit. 

Among  the  people  to  whom  they  are  written  are  Royal  Cor- 
tissoz,  Henry  Cabot  Lodge,  Richard  Aldrich,  H.  E.  Krehbiel, 
Benjamin  de  Casseres,  W.  C.  Brownell,  Walter  Pritchard  Eaton, 
William  Marion  Reedy,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  Elizabeth  Jordan,  Frida 
Ashforth,  Emma  Eames,  Henry  James,  Jr.,  etc. 

Every  page  is  alive  with  pointed  comment,  brilliant  char- 
acterization, and  vivid  portraiture.  Bohemian  and  literary 
New  York  of  the  last  several  decades  is  mirrored  in  these  letters. 


STEEPLEJACK 

ILLUSTRATED 

"Not  only  interesting  because  of  its  record  of  Mr.  Huneker's 
career  and  philosophy,  but  because  it  gives  an  excellent  idea  of 
the  developments  in  art,  music,  and  literature,  both  in  Europe 
and  in  America,  during  the  last  forty  years." 

— William  Lyon  Phelps,  Yale  University. 


VARIATIONS 

"  Hold  your  breath  as  you  go  through  this  book — touring  the 
universe  with  a  man  who  takes  all  of  life  in  its  everlasting  fecun- 
dity and  efflorescence  for  his  theme." 

— Benjamin  de  Casseres,  in  the  New  York  Herald. 


BEDOUINS 

Mary  Garden;  Debussy;  Chopin  or  the  Circus;  Botticelli;  Poe; 
Brahmsody;  Anatole  France;  Mirbeau;  Caruso  on  Wheels; 
Calico  Cats;  the  Artistic  Temperament;  Idols  and  Ambergris; 
With  the  Supreme  Sin;  Grindstones;  A  Masque  of  Music  and 
The  Vision  Malefic. 


IVORY  APES  AND  PEACOCKS 

"His  critical  tact  is  well-nigh  infallible.  .  .  .    His  position 
among  writers  on  aesthetics  is  anomalous  and  incredible:  no 
merchant  traffics  in  his  heart ,  yet  he  commands  a  large,  an  eager, 
an  affectionate  pubUc." 
— Lawrence  Gilman,  in  North  American  Review  (October,  igis). 


BOOKS     BY    JAMES    HUNEKER 


EGOISTS 

WITH  PORTRAIT  AND  FACSIMILE  REPRODUCTIONS 

"Closely  and  yet  lightly  written,  full  of  facts,  yet  as  amusing 
as  a  bit  of  discursive  talk,  penetrating,  candid,  and  very 
shrewd."— Royal  Cortissoz,  in  the  New  York  Tribune. 

THE  PATHOS  OF  DISTANCE 

A  Book  of  a  Thousand  and  One  Moments 
"The  book  is  stimulating;  brilhant  even  with  an  unexpected 
brilliancy." — Chicago  Tribune. 

OVERTONES: 

A  Book  of  Temperaments 

WITH  frontispiece  PORTRAIT  OF  RICHARD  STRAUSS 

"In  some  respects  Mr.  Huneker  must  be  reckoned  the  most 
brilhant  of  all  living  writers  on  matters  musical." 

— Academy,  London. 

PROMENADES  OF  AN  IMPRESSIONIST 

"  We  hke  best  such  sober  essays  as  those  which  analyze  for  us 
the  technical  contributions  of  Cezanne  and  Rodin.  Here  Mr. 
Huneker  is  a  real  interpreter,  and  here  his  long  experience  of 
men  and  ways  in  art  counts  for  much.  Charming,  in  the  shghter 
vein,  are  such  appreciations  as  the  Monticelli  and  Chardin." 
— Frank  Jewett  Mather,  Jr., 

in  New  York  Nation  and  Evening  Post. 

NEW  ^OSMOPOLIS 

"Mr.  James  Huneker,  critic  of  music  in  the  first  place,  is  a 
craftsman  of  diverse  accomplishment  who  occupies  a  distinctive 
and  distinguished  place  among  present-day  American  essayists. 
He  is  intensely  'modern,'  well  read  in  recent  European  writers, 
and  not  lacking  sympathy  with  the  more  rebellious  spirits.  He 
flings  oflf  his  impressions  at  fervent  heat;  he  is  not  ashamed  to  be 
enthusiastic;  and  he  cannot  escape  that  large  sentimentality 
which,  to  less  disciplined  transatlantic  writers,  is  kno-woi  nakedly 
as  'heart  interest.'  Out  of  his  chaos  of  reading  and  observation 
he  has,  however,  evolved  a  criticism  of  life  that  makes  for  in- 
tellectual cultivation,  although  it  is  of  a  Bohemian  rather  than  an 
academic  kind." — London  Athenaum  (November  6,  191 5). 

FRANZ  LISZT 

WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS 


CHOPIN:  The  Man  and  His  Music 


BOOKS     BY     JAMES     HUNEKER 

UNICORNS 

"The  essays  are  short,  full  of  a  satisfying — and  fascinating — 

crispness,  both  memorable  and  delightful.    And  they  are  full  of 

fancy,  too,  of  the  gayest  humor,  the  quickest  appreciation,  the 

gentlest  sympathy,  sometimes  of  an  enchanting  extravagance." 

— New  York  Times. 

MELOMANIACS 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  sum  up  ' Melomaniacs *  in  a  phrase. 
Never  did  a  book,  in  my  opinion  at  any  rate,  exhibit  greater 
contrasts,  not,  perhaps,  of  strength  and  weakness,  but  of  clear- 
ness and  obscurity." 
— Harold  E.  Gorst,  in  London  Saturday  Review  (Dec.  8, 1906). 

VISIONARIES 

"In  'The  Spiral  Road'  and  in  some  of  the  other  stories  both 
fantasy  and  narrative  may  be  compared  with  Hawthorne  in 
his  most  unearthly  moods.  The  younger  man  has  read  his 
Nietzsche  and  has  cast  off  his  heritage  of  simple  morals.  Haw- 
thorne's Puritanism  finds  no  echo  in  these  modern  souls,  all 
sceptical,  wavering,  and  unblessed.  But  Hawthorne's  splendor 
of  vision  and  his  power  of  sympathy  with  a  tormented  mind 
do  live  again  in  the  best  of  Mr.  Huneker's  stories." 

— London  Academy  (Feb.  3,  1906). 

ICONOCLASTS:  A  Book  of  Dramatists 

"His  style  is  a  little  jerky,  but  is  one  of  those  rare  styles  in 
which  we  are  led  to  expect  some  significance,  if  not  wit,  in  every 
sentence." — G.  K.  Chesterton,  in  London  Daily  News. 


MEZZOTINTS  IN  MODERN  MUSIC 

"Mr.  Huneker  is,  in  the  best  sense,  a  critic;  he  listens  to 
the  music  and  gives  you  his  impressions  as  rapidly  and  in  as 
few  words  as  possible;  or  he  sketches  the  composers  in  fine, 
broad,  sweeping  strokes  with  a  magnificent  disregard  for  un- 
important details.  And  as  Mr.  Huneker  is,  as  I  have  said,  a 
powerful  personality,  a  man  of  quick  brain  and  an  energetic 
imagination,  a  man  of  moods  and  temperament — a  string  that 
vibrates  and  sings  in  response  to  music — we  get  in  these  essays 
of  his  a  distinctly  original  and  very  valuable  contribution  to 
the  world's  tiny  musical  literature." 

— J.  F.  RuNCiMAN,  in  London  Saturday  Review, 


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